Timeless
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. Mostly AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. Sunnydale Memorial Awards RunnerUp: Best Drama, Best Plot, Best OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_Mostly AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: Not your typical start to a Spuffy story. Bear with me, I promise I'm not leading you on. Sit back and let the fairytale unfold._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** I**

Once upon a time, before never and after always, The Powers dwelled in a realm without the bonds of time and space, but not devoid of night and day. From there they worked the cosmos, designing, building, controlling, or as it sometimes happened, sitting back and allowing, for all things have their purpose.

* * *

Praespero sat in a field of soft gray-green grass and watched the sun setting, and the moon rising. Waiting for the show that happened every night. Tears trickled down the face of a child, even though he was just as ageless as his counterparts.

"Have you ever watched the sun and the moon?"

"Praes, this is not convenient." Crono, the elder-figure among them, tried to brush off the smaller being's interruption, bent over something, working as always.

"But I've been watching them. For days- or maybe years, and it's always the same." Praespero wasn't to be brushed off.

"You're using human references to time again. I've told you to stop that. Why don't you go play where they don't exist yet, get out of that bad habit?" The gray beard said absently.

The boy sighed. "They walk all day - or night, depending on which one, and they've been doing it for their entire lives-"

"Terms!"

"They walk through the light and the dark, constantly. But in each rotation," he spoke in carefully controlled, timeless words to please the one he viewed as a father, "they see each other for only about - for not long. They shout across the sky to each other, and then they pass with only a moment to touch. And they love each other."

Crono groaned, and the moon he was holding developed a crater as his thumb gouged into it in frustration. "First human markers of time, now human references of 'love'."

"They are our finest." Praes smiled timidly.

Patience. Patience, one must have that, that never changes, Cronos tried to think calming thoughts. "Listen. You haven't learned this lesson yet- at least this part of you has not, and for all that are immortal, it is a tricky thing, time. Time, emotion, distance." His eyes focused on the child-like one, and Praespero could see clouds and waves rolling gray and blue in the center of the iris. "Here is the key lesson- Powers remain objective. Each being serves a purpose, each being has a task." His audience nodded, eager to learn something. Crono's voice changed. "Don't interact with them, or you'll feel their pain. That is the rule you _must_ obey."

The boy backed up, suddenly stung. "But- but why make places and beings so beautiful and intricate if you can't even-"

"You don't understand." Crono lost the feebly held patience. "You complain the moon and sun pass and speak for only -fine, let's put it in human terms, an hour or so, night and day." He smiled coldly. "They see each other twice in one span of the spin of a planet." He pointed up, and clouds parted, showing an ink black sky covered in burning stars and whirling galaxies, waving vaguely to the spheres. He snatched his fist down, and when he opened it, it contained a tiny insect. "This one, this one will spend its whole life in about one 'day', after it hatches from its egg. It will not know love. It will feed, mate, leave the next generation of its young behind, and die."

Another step back, the stung look turning to horror, sadness. "Let it go then. It hasn't got much time." He gasped, urging the one he viewed as a father to free it.

Crono did so with a flip of his hand. "Next time you start feeling pity for the sun and moon, who have such an important task, light givers as they are, remember they will never truly die. In their way, they are as timeless as we, immortal in nature. They will always walk to each other, and those hours you complain about are more than some ever live to see. Now go. Work on your lessons." His eyes pointed up, back into the twinkling blackness he could envision. "It ever expands... dimensions among dimensions, and we have to work on them all..."

* * *

_He always talks down to me. Some father._

_ I know he's not my father. But he could try to act like it, couldn't he? He made all the other fathers I see, he knows how they act. Millions of years and billions of men, fathers still act the same. _Praes kicked rocks along the winding path._ No. No, he couldn't act like one, because he's too busy building and making and knowing everything._

_ How can he know everything, but be so oblivious to _them_?_ He looked up. The Sun was walking across the sky above him, a golden blazing form, wrapped in rays that didn't really do much to hide the lithe form, the picture of feminine beauty. At least if he was older he'd think she was pretty.

Being a Power is confusing. He knew somewhere there was the older version of himself, already wiser and waiting. Maybe just like Crono, bored with everything, even though there was no point to anything if everything slips by, unnoticed.

So he noticed. He more than noticed. Ignoring the rule to only observe, he interacted, for the first time ever.

"Hello!" He called up.

She seemed startled. "Hello." No one spoke to her. Everyone needed her, in some times and cultures they worshipped her, but no one talked to her. Simply doing an endless job- with only one bittersweet compensation.

"H-how many more hours until you see him?" Praes ventured.

"See? See who?" She saw millions in a day, but she could only really tell you about one.

"The moon. I mean- Moon. I hear you talking. I see how you start calling to him, the second you're both in the same horizon."

She smiled. "At least someone hears."

"He talks to you too. You're just so far away." He instantly regretted that. Sun was something radiant. When she lost her smile, the world seemed suddenly faded. "At least at first." She perked up slightly.

"We were made for each other. A matched set."

"By Crono?"

"A joint effort, him and others like him, heavenly bodies, immortal souls, energy and light, set in a course we don't get to change. With one friend. One love." Her face clouded, and so did the sky, a storm seeming to suddenly rush in on all fronts. "Kept apart."

"You- not always?" Another apologetic attempt to console her. Maybe Crono was right. Knowing her pain without being able to say anything, or offering to help fix the problem- it brought him pain of his own.

"Not always." She looked through the crowds. "Have you seen what happens when we pass?"

He hadn't really paid attention- in detail. He saw the burning dance, something engulfed, two moving together, two torn apart, the moon always fading rapidly, almost falling from the sky as she took over. "You... can touch?"

"Yes. That." Lightning zipped past her. "Watch us when we next meet."

* * *

He couldn't move time itself. He could move through it. He just couldn't make it speed past. Instead he spent the time waiting to watch avoiding the others, who would ask what he was doing.

Or not, actually. They never did. He fell asleep watching her move away, until he couldn't see the lit figure, only the glow that became round and red around her, a burning ball in the blue sky.

* * *

"Love!" A voice woke him. A voice that was warm and rich, full of delight. The boy sat up blinking, looking at he periwinkle sky. Somehow Praes thought he'd be colder, more austere, like the light attached to him.

"I'm coming!" She spread out her arms to him, and the red flare blazed the sky- but she moved no faster. She bit back a cry of frustration, trapped in these traces, unable to rush into his arms.

"I see you, I can hear you just fine. You look beautiful."

"So do you! I missed you." Another stretch toward him, fruitless, but this time returned. The gave tortured looks that sent sparks across the sky.

_Shouting across the sky- how does no one hear them? Or care about what they say? Prisoners of their fates, so in love, so desperate. _

_It's their whole existence- walking endlessly to meet each other- they never give up, or grow tired. Or maybe they can't. What good what it do? Slaves to their tasks. _

He felt suddenly sick watching, but he couldn't look away.

"I saw the flowers you made bloom. Amazing, Beauty."

"The oceans you pull- so magnificent."

_The same thing every day, and yet they still compliment each other._ Praes tilted his head. _His father and mother- well, Crono and Cora, barely spoke. _Yet, he thought Cora had love for him. She had love for all things. Crono made things- but Cora gave them their spark.

"Soon. I can feel the warmth." There was laughter. Sun didn't share it. "Ah, Love, no sadness. You know how cold it gets without you."

"I'm sorry." She reached out to him again, and he seemed to sigh, to sink into the warmth, while he actually rose higher.

_Soon._ Praes watched, mouth slightly open. _Soon they have to meet, or they'll pass altogether. _

Meet they did. A glorious burst of silver and gold light, and then - she fell, rapidly, and he soared.

_What happened? What just happened?_

"Moon? Where is she?"

The man above him looked down, with the deepest, bluest eyes, drowning him in a lake of tears. "What happens every night, boy. She gives me her life, so I might live."

* * *

He tore through the palatial halls that one second might be marble and the next might be old caverns, the next might be the sky itself. "Father! Father, did you see them tonight?"

Crono put down his cup hurriedly. "See who? There hasn't been a breach, has there?"

"Moon and Sun!"

"Oh, not this again." The cup was picked up and drained.

"But Father, I saw what really happens! It's not just an exchange of lights. She- Sun, she is dying for him."

"Do not call me 'father', and you needn't worry about them. They obviously don't die, as they are already lighting worlds across eternity even as we speak. Pop into a different time, boy, see the humans sunning themselves under her rays."

"But- but it's not fair. I saw them tonight, calling as one sinks and one rises, a point in passing where they can touch- just for a moment, and then- oh it was horrible! She was torn, right out of his arms."

"Yes, and at dawn, he'll be forced from hers. It's an even exchange." He said complacently.

"Is that all that matters to you? That it was 'even'? 'Even pain'?"

"What have I told you? About purpose?"

"Purpose doesn't have to hurt them, does it?"

"All pain serves a purpose! Some more severe than others. If their pain is great, so will their purpose be. If you try to end that pain, Praespero, you will end their purpose." The voice was suddenly dangerous, "The universe is already written. Powers are the_ only_ ones who can change it. Do you know what that means?"

"That we could help?" The boy asked hopefully.

"That you are one of the few beings in all the vast creation that _can ruin things_!" He shooed him violently away. "I don't want to see you out there, talking to them again, wasting time talking about what must be and cannot be changed. You have millennia's worth of lessons to master before you can be truly useful. Go and learn something!"

* * *

He ran from the shouting, raging voice, that seemed so much more angry, so much more annoyed and worried, uncharacteristically emotional.

"Go learn something, he says. Fine. I _will_."

* * *

It was short journey._ That's relative. Remember, everything is relative._ He still felt exhausted when he arrived at the place on the edge of night, a swirling black-blue mist, with a beautiful tower in the midst of it.

"I never get visitors. Not home for more than a few minutes at a time, it seems." Moon greeted him, a lopsided smile on his pale face.

"Oh. I- I'm glad you're here. I thought I might have to wait."

"No, but soon you'll have walk." Moon sighed.

"So- you only come home for a few moments? Ever?"

"It's a long walk from moon rise to moon set. The sooner I move, the sooner I see her again." As if the words reminded him of the reason to walk, he suddenly started towards the door. "Come on if you're coming."

Praes could easily keep up with him, but her felt like he couldn't match the stride. This being marched, hauling his burden, eyes unflinchingly ahead, never veering as he scanned for the faintest hint of sunlight. "I talked to her. She told me to watch as you rose." He swallowed. "It's always like that?"

"Ever since we were made. And we've been around for almost as long as your 'family', little one." He chuckled darkly. "All the age, none of the perks."

Praes followed, feeling guilty. "You never get to talk, or- or to touch for more than a minute?" This earned another chuckle.

"I'd say you're right, except for- hm. You ever noticed an eclipse, boy?"

"Yes, a celestial confluence. When you pass in front of the other?"

"And one of us blocks the other out. One of tops the other and-" he stopped abruptly. "When you're older. Do you get older?"

"I think so." Praes shrugged, but he knew. He looked young, but he had plenty of knowledge about the workings of males and females. Not so much about their hearts. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Oh yes. In the midst of the pleasure of her touch." His eyes closed, as if remembering a delicious memory. "She's worth the pain. I'd do anything for her."

"You said she gave her life?" _Why? They don't _have_ to touch when they pass. They struggle away from their spheres, as far as they can stretch, for the merest moment of connection. _

"And she did. And when we dance again," a melancholy smile, "I'll give her mine." Seeing the youth's startled expression, he elaborated. "I'm so cold I can put her out as I rise. When I wane, I'm weak enough, and she's hot enough, that she burns me out. It hurts, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Nor would she. We've had plenty of opportunities to try to deny it."

"Deny ?"

"That we love each other. Enough to die, enough to freeze out, burn away, every cycle." He nodded. "Sometimes we gripe, sometimes we bicker- but when we see each other- oh little one, that's when the sky shines." Just thinking about her turned the glow around him up and made Praes look away.

"So... that's enough for you? It's okay to love, and hurt, and even 'die'? You don't need any more, simply because you love her so much?"

Moon stared at him as if he were some single-celled creature without brains. "Of course it's not enough! Of course I want more! We don't have any choice, so we make all we can out of the little we get!"

"I'm sorry! Sorry." He stumbled out an apology.

"You think it's easy to see the one you love fall from your arms? To look in her eyes as yours close, as the pain swallows you up, kissed by fire?" Moon challenged him, dared him to make light of their love, their loss.

"No, no, of course I don't think that. I think it sounds awful. Painful. I just don't understand... why you do it."

"Then you've never loved someone." He replied harshly. Seeing the stricken, youthful face, he relented, tone softened a bit. "The love is better than the pain. Can't stay away from her. Can't push her away from me. We've tried."

"What happened?"

"Floods and fires. Going off your course- can't be done."

"Well, what can be done?" He finally asked.

A dim shrug. "Nothing. Our souls are tied to our spheres. If we could be free, and the spheres were just allowed to follow the paths Crono set, we could- I don't know. We could live as mortals, together. We could live as spirits together. The together part is all that really matters."

Praes looked at him curiously. "Untie your souls? Separate them from the moon and the sun? But what would you be- mortal or immortal, spirit or flesh?"

"There's the problem. Once united, we'd have to be reformed. Put in forms that can be together." He looked wistful. "Not like these." He gestured to the bright blue-white ball surrounding him, that in effect_ was _him.

Praespero's face went from hopeful to miserable. "I can untie souls. Part of learning life and death." His voice shrank, forlorn. "But I can't do anything after that. I could never put you in new bodies. My powers are still small. Might always be, the way Crono talks."

Moon reached for him. "It's nice you care. You're the only one who does. Maybe- maybe if someone else listened to you, little one."

"No one does."

"I know how you feel. But, if those powers ever mature, or you do find someone who listens and will help you- don't forget us."

"I promise."

* * *

"Psst."

Praes jumped in the dark, the dark which seemed so thick and black, now that he'd let Moon walk on, and he was left standing in nothingness. "Hello?"

"Praespero, over here."

He squinted. His eyes focused on shadowy spaces- until he found a shadow within them. "Azraiel! You're not supposed to be here!" He backed up. This being wasn't a Power, he was a gate keeper, and supposed to stay in places of passage.

"Well someone has to check on him."

"Check on who?"

"Moon! That poor man. Trapped. A prisoner. Not only a prisoner of the Powers who gave him his task, a prisoner of _love_." Azraiel sighed dramatically.

Praes was cautious. "He_ is_ sad."

Azraiel nodded. "He loves her. From so far away, walking always, just to get near to her and then- the pain! The sudden, impermanent, oft recurring _death_ when one swaps places in the sky, and- ah. It breaks my heart." Azraiel clasped his chest dramatically.

Praespero frowned doubtfully. Gatekeepers were lesser beings, not human, not Powers. He wasn't really sure _what _they were, a by-product of Crono's rules about not interacting with anyone but Powers. He realized he didn't know much of anything about anyone, in spite of all his "knowledge". "You have a heart?"

Azraiel shrugged carelessly. "Well, the thing I _would _have, if I had one." Azraiel sighed. "I look at you, and I see it, boy. You feel the same. You aren't as old as the others. You haven't lost your ability to care. You don't want things to be in pain._ You _have a heart."

Did he truly? Moon said he'd never loved. He agreed on one point. "No. Never. I don't like when they're in pain."

Something shifted in a shadowed face. A hint of cruelty under curling black lips, quickly masked. "But you know that everything must be in pain, don't you?"

"I know what father says about it." He muttered.

The voice was suddenly bright with curiosity. "He lets you call him father?"

Praes hung his head. "No._ Crono _said all pain has purpose, and to steal pain is to steal purpose, and to steal purpose is to cause death."

"Don't you deal with death, little one?"

"No. N-not yet. I know about it, I just- I don't take lives. Or souls."

"It can be good or bad. It can be a rebirth, you know. A relief, an end of torment, a chance for something better."

"I know. I hear them say it's all a journey, and I shouldn't worry yet. I should just keep learning."

"Hm. I wonder if they'd want you to learn ... no. No, they wouldn't like you helping them, Sun and Moon." The voice hinted subtly, and wondered if the boy, for all his years and powers, would be naive enough to take the bait.

His eyes were suddenly alert. Someone was listening to him. Not a Power, but someone. He had promised to try, to remember them, if ever he fond help. "Wait, learn what? Help them how?"

"You can loose their souls, can't you? Not take them, not kill them- just... let them be unbound."

"I can. But I can't hold them, I couldn't get to the 'rebirth' part, like you mentioned." He blushed slightly. "That's the next class with Vita."

"Only the next class?"

"In human terms, I think it's in a century or so."

"Hmm. _Hmm._ A hundred years or so of waiting. Dying each day, or each night."

"She can't teach me earlier." Praes protested. "There's a time for everything- even though we're timeless." He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Of course. Only- if you _were_ to free Moon's soul, I do know someone who can transform it. Into a night being. A- a being that won't be tied to a long, painful journey. Well, not each day and night." A sinister smile fled before the boy could grasp it. "I just need a little help from you. An ingredient or two. Your powers to set him free. And then- we would be half done."

"But Sun wouldn't be free! You have to take both."

"I can't, little one. Don't you know which gate I guard?" Praes vaguely remembered. He nodded with false confidence. "Darkness is my domain."

"Who can transform a soul?"

"Oh... you know. Lots of those down there. You're not really familiar with all the residents of the various realms. You could ask Crono if you'd like."

"No." Praes said too quickly. Crono might put him on a different plane indefinitely if he found out he was meddling. "I guess it doesn't matter who. But what about her? Freeing him and placing him into another body, even a night dweller, that wouldn't solve anything. They'd still be apart.

"For a day at the most! Crono would free her. He'd _have_ to. Without the moon to balance her, she walks and walks and never rests, she'd never switch paths, or set. The skies would burn. He'd have to take her soul and then the moon and the sun would truly be what all the mortals think they are. Just two stars in a sky, nothing 'alive' or 'loving' about them."

"He could turn her into a human. Into an angel. A plant!"

"A night dweller can be with any of those things. The only thing it couldn't stand would be the sun itself. And she would no longer be that. That would be the only thing she could not be. Your problem- rather, _their _problem, is solved."

_It sounds complicated. Or too simple. Maybe both. No wonder we aren't supposed to speak to the "lesser beings". It's confusing._ "I don't know." Praes finally replied.

"Then think about it." Azraiel advised, and slipped back into the blackness until he blended in, leaving the boy alone in the dark.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: More developments. You'll see where I'm going. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, Alexis. walther .1, stuff'n'nonsense, TessLouise, elacartier, juggling, Naomi, JediSteelWolf, , Illusera, HTSWasRubbish, and rpfan1976. It is a pleasure to hear from so many old friends and meet some future ones!_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** II**

"You look miserable." Cora spoke to him, appearing next to him as he idly roamed halls in the shelter they shared.

He was. He couldn't go outside without seeing them. Knowing he might be able to help, but wasn't brave enough to risk it.

"Is it Crono?" Her eyes narrowed, soft voice turning even more so, soothing. "He's very busy."

"He's _always_ very busy." The master of time and space- he really could slow down if he wanted- wouldn't even change anything.

"Of course he is. All of us are, and will be."

"I'm not. I don't do anything." Bitterness, something sullen found its way into his tone.

"Oh dear one! You do so much, simply by existing. Don't you know that?"

"No." He sulked.

"When we burst forth from nothing, there was so much confusion. You, with all your brightness and eagerness- you helped us make sense. You just need to exist, and you live up to your name. Hope." She chucked his chin before she prepared to glide off.

"Hope." He repeated.

"That's right. You give the world hope." Another tender smile over her shoulder, and then she slide away. "I wish I had longer, little one, but Crono keeps building, so I have to keep giving as well."

"The love." He murmured.

"What?" She paused, head tilted. "What was that?"

"You give love. So things aren't just shells. They're full. He builds, but you fill."

She considered. "It's a partnership. We all have our roles to play."

"Then- then how do you keep from breaking the rule? He says not to interact, but if you fill them with love, don't you- don't _you_ care about them?"

"These are hard questions. What have you been thinking?" She frowned.

"I just want to know." He shrugged.

She considered. "No. I don't really interact, Prae. I give them the ability. The humans, the animals, the beings, and creatures still to be discovered and named- I put in the ability, it's up to them if they use it or how they use it. I simply give it, and walk away. That's what you need to do."

"Give hope, and then walk away?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't seem very helpful."

A little laugh. "Oh dear, dear. It isn't meant to be. We gave them form. We give them tools. The rest is up to them."

"But- but what if the tools aren't enough unless you help them use them?"

Cora's face suddenly took on a concerned look. "You cannot help. That is not our task."

"I know, but are there ever times when-"

"Do not be tempted!" The soft, milky face suddenly became hard, nothing maternal in her eyes now, unless it was that raw power that all mothers possess. "You _cannot_ give aid to one if not all, and if you try to help one, you leave another unformed, unfinished. There is _always_ something moving us forward, Praes. We are superior to time, we may control it, but it moves on in the worlds and the realms- our purpose is not to lag. Not to dwell."

Praespero looked stunned. He'd never seen her act like that. He'd never challenged her before either. "Sorry."

Instantly she was composed, back to her gentle self. "You're young in so many ways. Of course you can't be expected to understand."

"I... don't."

"You will." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "You will. One day."

* * *

_One day I will realize that there are all these beautiful people and things, places and worlds. I won't care that they're full of pain and sadness. I'll just... move on. Move away. Onto the next thing._

His head had been bowed. Now it lifted, youthful, boyish face suddenly very angry and intense, eyes hard as his "mother"'s had been. _That sounds like the opposite of hope. That sounds like quitting. Giving up. _

_ That doesn__'t sound like me._

* * *

He walked into the dark places, the place where Moon made his home, the roads he walked on his endless journey, places where shadows had shadows, and night was its own kingdom.

"I've thought about it." He announced bluntly to the open space, alone in the blackness.

"So happy to hear that."

Like he'd known would happen, Praes suddenly wasn't alone anymore. "Azraiel." He tried to sound calm, even though the expected arrival still startled him, unsettled him in some undefinable way.

"Kind, _helpful_ child. I've been hoping you'd come back."

He smiled uncertainly. "Good. You- you should. Hope. It's my purpose." Suddenly the childish form looked more adolescent, shoulders a bit wider, eyes a bit less bright. "And that's the most important thing, serving one's purpose."

* * *

"I want to talk to the one you said can help Moon." Praes said urgently.

"He's not available right now." Azraiel hedged.

"I'll go to when he is, where he is." He insisted.

"Well... shouldn't you talk to Moon first? I'll get my master, you tell Moon we're trying to help him."

"Oh, yes. I said I would." The eagerness was suddenly back._ I'm going to help someone. I'll show them that hope is not just a hollow feeling. The reason, the purpose of hope is that sometimes, you get what you hoped for._ "He'll be so happy."

"My master as well."

"Who is your master?" Praes thought to ask, almost an afterthought.

"Oh, one of Crono's old friends. Old creations, I should say."

"Crono doesn't have friends." Praespero agreed. "And- he's not human? He's like you?"

"No, no, far above lowly old me. I just keep the gate safe, he rules the realm behind them." Azraiel laughed.

"But... he does know how to deal with souls?"

"Indeed. Practices with-" Azraiel hesitated, "with what he can. This will be something entirely new, of course. There's no one like Moon. Except Sun."

"She'll be thrilled when he tells her."

"If you're sure you want to delay them that long."

"What do you mean? I was going right now."

"They're nowhere near one another. You want them to suffer another cycle of their lonely walks, or do you want to help set their freedom in motion?"

"I - I'll head over right now. I can move into dusk, or dawn, of another day, so I can tell them both."

"_You_ can. You're a Power. My master is a-a simple higher being. He is bound to a certain place, you know." A place in eternity, where time never stopped, or maybe it had never started. It was certainly stalled in an endless, torturous circle, and the inhabitants were restless. There was no exit, only an entrance. A gate that really didn't need a keeper, more like a warden, keeping things in, never letting them out. He licked his blackened lips suddenly. _Here it goes_. "Perhaps... if you could open the gate for him, that would be best. All of you could go together. Or he could certainly meet you there."

"Open the gate for him? Isn't that your job?" Praes laughed, confused and rushed, bursting to get to action, already starting to follow the path Moon took every night.

"Remember I said I would need a few things from you? An ingredient or two for success?"

"Right. What do you need?"

"Really only one thing, a key. To open the gate."

"You have a key." He pointed to something around the being's neck.

"It's a strange door the Powers built. I don't think you helped. It's not a very hopeful sort of place." He chuckled in return. Azraiel let the key dangle a few inches above his collarbone before dropping it back. "This key lets inhabitants in. I don't have one to let people out. Crono has it."

"He'll never give it to me!"

"You don't need to ask him to borrow something for a few minutes do you? Tell you what, you don't even need the actual key itself- if you could just ...make one. After you've seen it? It wouldn't be a chore for you, you could go to his workshop, look for the one marked 'Azraiel's Gate, Exit,', whip it up like you Powers whip up everything else, and be right back here. Instantly. Skip through time, walk backwards, however you do it."

Praespero blinked. "You just said... you'd bring him to meet me."

A careless fumble, fast-talking meant for a more trusting child, even more trusting than this one. "I meant," he corrected, "I can bring him to the gate. He could talk to you from there. But to do his best work, and not waste time- we need a key."

Suspicion sharpened. "Why do you think he can't get out? Because Crono doesn't want him to."

Azraiel put on the sympathetic smile. "Dear boy, I understand _that_. Now why do you think that's so?"

"Huh?"

"Why would Crono lock him away, forbid him to leave his realm? Doesn't he forbid humans to leave their time periods, make the dimensions to hold fast to their dwellers? Doesn't he even forbid _you_ to go to other places? You have to stay in this place, maybe peeking down or in, but never_ going to_. The only difference is that from this place, you can see any place and any time you like. As long as you don't get involved. Interfere."

_Like I am doing._ Praes' face took on a look of understanding. Would his father lock him away as well? Wasn't he already locked away- as in away from others, looking at them without touching, without speaking. Did he give them feelings of hope, only to have that hope remain false? Cora would say that was up to the humans and the beings he gave it to, and once given, he should walk away. "Your master- you never did tell me his name?"

_Childlike hopefulness, helpfulness, and stubbornness. _"Bartimaeus. Have you heard of him?" _Therein lies the risk. Does Crono ever speak of his fallen higher beings, the angelic ones who were not content to fly and look pretty, decorating the realm of expired but redeemed souls?_

Apparently not. The boy shook his head with an unconcerned look. The name meant nothing to him. "Father- I mean, Crono, told him not to come out because he wants to ... what exactly?"

"_Change_ things._ Create t_hings on his own. He isn't content to sit and let things pass him by, or come to him as they come. He is tired of being a puppet." This last phrase was said with too much venom. Azraiel abruptly closed his mouth.

But he'd struck an unexpected nerve. "That I understand!" Praes snorted. "You tell Bartimaeus I'll meet Moon and tell him what we hope to do. Then I'll see what I can do about a key. Where is the gate?"

"Nearby. If we're talking about darkness." Azraiel explained with a strained laugh.

"Then I'll meet you back here."

* * *

Praes followed tracks Moon has worn into the sky, only to realize that the golden light he could see must mean that he and Sun had already met, and he should turn back, and catch him returning to his home.

But first...

* * *

Crono was in his workshop. "Praes, if you intend to bend my ear with your questions and whining again-"

"I just wanted to watch. Am I not supposed to be training in that? Just to observe?"

Crono answered evenly, despite the barbs he could hear in the boy's voice. "That's right. Only then are you fit to build. To create, restore, and take. Once you realize everything has purpose and you don't interfere in that purpose, then you're allowed to work amongst them."

"What?" _Work amongst them?_

"Collecting dying souls, building new stars for light, pushing out the new souls into new bodies, or maybe into old ones, it all depends. But it has to become a simple- but delicate- task you do. If you were to overthink it, if you were to spare a soul because of pity, even once- you'd create such tangles in time and in humanity. Humanity in particular. They're already so highly strung, and they have a sizeable life to get through, at least in their perspective." Crono explained all this in a matter-of-fact voice, nimble fingers busily working away at something.

"By working among them, you don't really mean among them at all. More like- using them as tools."

"Exactly!" Crono sounded suddenly pleased, even spared him a glance and the hint of a smile. "Come and see this."

Praes stepped forward. He peered at the work bench. A volcano. "I've seen these before."

"I'm sure you have. You're an observant one." Crono smiled once again, shocking them both. "Now you see, this will go here." A wave of his hands, clouds parted above, then suddenly it was as if they were flipped, onto their backs.

"Crono! What-"

"Patience, you'll see." They were under something, something heavy and hot, and Crono just pushed it all aside with flicks of his fingers, until they could see-

"Oceans?" Whales and fish swimming lazily above them.

"This goes here. Underwater." He shoved the volcano into place. What seemed to fit in the palm of his hand suddenly seemed immensely bigger. Whales and fish scattered. "I put it here now, a few years before the area becomes over populated."

"What area?"

"Earth, what humans will eventually call 'The Pacific'. South Pacific to be precise. This small simple piece of rock, funneling up the fire in the planet's belly, will erupt from the water in a few years time, causing earthquakes and tsunamis."

Crono sounded complacent. Praes looked horrified. "Those kill people!"

"Oh yes, hundreds, but that's not the point, The island that grows from it will be incredibly beautiful. Humans will find it an earthly paradise. The vegetation and the lives it will support will be unequalled. At least for a time." His face clouded. Nothing he made stayed the same. Someday the volcano would erupt again, destroying homes and jungles, and someday it would be overcrowded and polluted. But no matter. He could always sweep people off when it got too bad and start over again, if need be.

"You're killing hundreds of people, so you can make a home for hundreds of people?" Cyclical, but hardly fair. "Father, why do you-"

"Praespero!"

"I only wondered why you have to kill them in the first place. They do die on their own."

With a glare and a sudden rush that left him woozy, Praes found Crono had whisked them back to the workshop. Crono ignored him, refusing to speak, methodically back to his work table. "How do I learn without questions?"

"Why do your questions have the distinct note of doubt, of wanting to change what is in place?"

"I only asked!"

"Fine. _I _do not kill people. In this instance. The growing of the island and what it impacts in the world around it, those disasters spawned in creating new life-_ that_ is what causes death. Have you ever watched a human or sentient give birth?"

"No..." _Not like he means, anyway, a glimpse, something in passing. Vita says that's part of her teachings, that I'll learn soon enough._

"Then you know nothing about life. It comes through great pain. Near destruction. Depending on 'when', it came with a considerable chance of death. But there is an exchange. It's all even, Praespero."

"And that's all that matters?"

"All that should matter to you." Crono sighed. "Why don't you run along, if you're inclined to talk?"

"I'll just watch. I promise."

"Very well."

He stood back, silent and alert. Eyes darting. This workshop might extend for the length of worlds, he never was allowed to poke around in it. The key to Azraiel's gate might be anywhere.

"Crono?"

A faint groan.

"I- never mind. May I look around? I won't touch anything."

"Will you be quiet while you do it?" He sighed.

"Yes."

"Then go, look. Don't touch. That is the best way for you to learn perhaps. To see with your own eyes, and stop constantly interrupting."

Thus dismissed, Praes tried to stroll nonchalantly through the vast workspace, without seeming to be in too much of a hurry, all the while knowing he was in fact holding up an act of mercy, keeping two beautiful being in suffering.

He could find nothing shaped like a key. Nothing that even resembled doorways, nothing that was a clue to how one should be opened.

_Gates don't have to look like gates, do they? Not always. Maybe a key doesn't have to look like a key. Or maybe... Maybe I don't need what he already made. Maybe I can make it myself. _

_ Basics to all creation. There are five. Mass, water, earth, air, and fire. And those are things I could control, that all Powers could control. _He simply was still learning that control.

"Thank you, Crono. I learned a lot." He murmured as he passed the elder being.

* * *

Moon was slogging back. One journey, the journey to rise, seemed to be one of strength. The one where he waned, was one of pain, one of walking off her burns, walking off her tears and trying to stay focused on the next time he'd see her, touch her, only for a few minutes, but it kept him going. It was a long, lonely trek, typically unbroken by conversation. The skies were full, but most things didn't take time to communicate, not with the lonely one who was only living for one thing. Two things- forced duty, and the sight of his beloved.

When the boy spoke to him, he was startled but grateful. "I came to see you."

"I can see that, little one. The question is, why? Come to keep a lonely man company?"

"Come to tell you- I think I can help. If I get some help from another."

Suddenly, the black sky was not merely tinted with pale blue light, it was ablaze with silver. "What? That's brilliant! That's wonderful! How, who? When?"

"Bartimaeus and Azraiel, by me unbinding your soul from your sphere and letting them attach it to another form, and the when- very soon. Before you rise again, I think. It seems urgent, somehow."

"Bartimaeus and Azraiel?" Moon cocked his head. Names sounded distantly familiar, yet so does everything after a seemingly endless life where you encounter most things at least once. "Not Powers."

"Higher being and a gatekeeper. They want to help free you, and without you in balance, they say Crono will have to free_ her_."

Moon was unable to halt in his tracks, but he seemed to shake as he struggled on. "Me? Leave without her? Never."

"You have to. I can't free you both, and they can only work with night dwelling beings. It's their realm, the darkness, the shadows. I did ask."

"My answer's no. Not going to risk leaving her alone."

"Crono can't risk leaving her alone either! You're an even exchange. He told me."

"I don't care. I'm not leaving."

"But...Crono won't act first. So, if you're not first- then... then I guess you're never freed. You'll still be together though. Like you are." _I fail at helping. Or I fail at interfering. Father warned me it comes to no good._

Moon's face creased, a look of pain. "We've never been apart. Not really. We're just always on the way_ to_ each other. It's apart, yes, but it's always about to be. I can't exist without her. Not even for a 'day'." Tears blinked in the corners of his eye.

_I don't know anything of love. Or bonds, or even pain of my own. I don't have any right to ask him, or advise him. _

_ I just give hope._ "You don't know what you can do, unless you try it. If you try, and if you live through that first day, then you get the rest of your time together. All of it, together, without tearing apart, without the pain. At least, not this type of pain. The endless kind." The boy shrugged helplessly.

The silvery features worked, the muscles that were filled and formed from endless hauling of his spherical attachment seemed to twist under the surface, agonies of indecision coursing over him. To try a new pain and live in hope of something better coming? Or to live in the old familiar pain, with its small, predictable comforts?

One pain _might_ end. One pain _never _will.

"I have to talk to her first. I have to say goodbye." The tears leaked down, over a smile that tried to form, something like a humorous, melancholy smirk gracing his lips. "Or at least, goodnight."

"Absolutely."

_Azraiel talked about how he shouldn't go through more pain. Not one more cycle. But he won't leave until he says goodbye. So... Azraiel and his master will just have to be content with all we can manage._

* * *

Azraiel was far from content. He appeared to be nearly bubbling out of his body in tortured excitement. "Did you get it? Did you get him? Where is he? Where is it?"

"I talked to Moon, I looked for the key." Praes soothed.

"Yet, neither are apparent." A frown manifested.

"The key is hidden too well and Crono is easily annoyed." Praes frowned as well. "I was not welcome around him for long, so I couldn't find it to borrow, I couldn't see it to copy. If you want to try-"

"No! No, no." Azraiel backed away, hands up. "I understand. It is ... difficult, to be in his presence. And your other conversation?"

"Moon will not agree to the plan- not the plan of leaving now, and coming to meet your master at the gate. He doesn't care about enduring one more night of pain, since he has a good reason."

"Which is?"

"He wants to say goodbye and warn Sun what's happening."

"Oh, of all the foolish..." Azraiel trailed off, annoyed and wincing in frustration. "She'd figure it out soon enough."

Praes shrugged. "It's not much of a delay. And I've never made a key or- or really anything permanently useful before. So it's not as if we're even sure I can open the gate to let your master work."

"No. No. But you are sure you know how to loose the soul from the sphere?"

"Yes. Yes, that's something very powerful, but very simple. You can't undo it once the bind is broken. At lest _I _can't."

_Good. _"Well... I have a thought then."

"What's that?"

"Unbind his soul now, and I'll collect it and bring it through the gate, to my master. He needn't come out, and you won't have to exert yourself to make a key, sight unseen, for the 'exit'."

"But- then how will Moon get back out? How will he find Sun again after Crono frees her?"

"Trust me. We've never had a soul like his before. It simply can't stay." A grin that was best hid in the shadows spread across his face, matching the black sapphire gleam in his eyes._ It'll tear the realm open. And soon- oh, soon we'll have such glorious merging, such freedom, mixing our power with any soul, with any form. We only need one. The ruler of night himself. Now playing a pauper's role, a slave to the sphere, bound and chained, when Master knows he's the prince of it all, second only to the King of Darkness himself. Oh, Crono is a crafty one..._

"I don't understand."

"Little one, listen." He answered with exaggerated patience. "Do you know much about life, death, and the ways of souls on their unending journey?"

Ashamed of his ignorance, for one with such power, he had to silently shake his head. "I'm learning. I know much more than mortals. Much less than other immortals, other Powers."

A kind hand clamped on his shoulder. "Don't be full of sadness. It's not your fault, and you're honest in what you know and do not, more than most- most anyone I've met." He did feel a genuine liking for this boy, and it surprised him. Too bad he was bound to play a pawn. "You've been kept without knowledge. My boy, if you will trust me, I will force Crono to explain so much, to teach you so much. I don't fully know all the ways my Master commands, but I do know that once he begins something, there will be no stopping it unless Crono takes some action. And shares some information."

It sounded dangerous. Risky. Involved, interfering, all the things he should avoid. _And I'm one of the Powers That Be. Irrevocable and unchangeable- and stuck in a body that looks like a half-grown man, or an aging child. They keep me with the mind to match, and I've only just noticed? Has it been eternities or moments? _He felt confused, an unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation.

_ This must be why he forbids us to mingle with anyone but each other. _

_ It__'s not enough for me anymore. For Moon, and Sun, and me, something must start, even something dangerous. _

"Tell me what to do first." Praespero squared his shoulders.

"Unbind him. I'll fetch him." Azraiel lifted something from the belt at his waist.

"A little bell?"

"Little, but long sounding, far-reaching. When it tolls, souls must come. And there will be only one soul in this night."

"But you have to wait until after they meet. That's _next _night. They have to say goodbye, even if they'll only be apart for a short time."

_Master needs him at the peak. There are three nights in Moon's fullest phase, and this is the last. We've already gambled off two. I can give him an hour at most. He'll never reach her by then, but every second we delay is a second Crono has to wonder, to check, to finally take an interest in the boy and ask where he's been._ "I won't ring it until the next night." Azraiel lied with a completely sincere voice.

"I'll free him after the dawn." Praes looked down the long winding paths that went deeper and deeper into darkness, yet were moving towards light.

"As you wish... only, I'll have to get back to the gate and I _did_ want to see such a beautiful boy work such a feat of life magic." Azraiel's voice covered sudden panic handsomely, sounding for all the world full of true admiration and longing.

_No one ever cares what I do._ "It's not anything so incredibly interesting to see. It's only so powerful because of what it does." He blushed.

"I don't have to ring the bell when you do it, Praespero. I'll wait. I give you my oath." _And I will wait. Just not until the next darkness..._ "Please? Show me something you Powers are so revered for. It's been a pleasure to talk to one who actually cares enough about us lower beings to spare the time- something you have an infinite supply of, yet never any for us."

"I'm not like them." Angrily righteous, he nodded, and turned away, seeking out with all his being for the soul he wanted- and for the thread binding it.

Azraiel watched silently, jaw slightly dropped, as the boy seemed to shudder and grow, and his hands wove the air, peeling layers, digging for something.

* * *

Moon's thread was long and thick, and tangled. Frayed with different strands shooting off. Prasepero bit his lip. He'd never seen one like this before, not that he'd seen many at all. But it had many different ends, different colors. Sometimes he feared he was not actually grabbing the right ones.

_Just find the one binding him to the sphere!_

* * *

Moon felt the curious prickling. Something made him keep itching to look back over his shoulder, but he knew what he'd see. What he had always seen, a huge burden that was at the same time so beautiful. Maybe this was the last night he'd ever see it.

_At least as it weighs me down, keeps me pulled away from her. _

"Sunstar! Day Ruler! My love!" He shouted through the darkness, louder than he ever had. The sooner I can find her, the sooner I can free her. And like always, he lived in the foolish hope that once, just once, time would move faster for him.

* * *

_ This one. This big, chain like one. This one made as something special, something not just one little life, like a human life, or a mammal__'s life. This one was meant not to break._

It took all he had to break the unbreakable.

* * *

Azraiel watched the boy crash to his knees, shoulders heaving. "Not interesting to to see! I call that more than interesting, I call it most impressive, young one.

"He's- he's unbound. But not... separated." Praes panted. "If I did that he couldn't keep the sphere moving until he reached her. But when you call his soul... he can come now. Free now." He finished, gasping.

"You're all in, little one, all in! An exhausted Power, something I never thought could be! Get back to your palaces and get rested. Tomorrow night you'll need all your strength to watch such things as will transpire."

Too weak to speak, he nodded, and moved himself away, one last look at his partner in this endeavor. "Tomorrow." He mouthed.

* * *

Azraiel waited the hour before he struck the bell, and let its sound fill the darkness. He smiled sadly. "First rule, little one, and not just in timeless realms like ours. There is no 'tomorrow'.

* * *

Moon heard the chime. A beautiful, deep sound- that also sounded wrong. Like the first note in a symphony that never played. Left the listener waiting- and falling.

And he began to fall, from the sky, from his tracks. A million times he'd tried, and never had been able to. "What is this?" And now the time he must stay on course- he wasn't able to. "No. NO!"

He detached. He drifted, pulled, knowing where he was going, and knowing it was too soon. "Sun! Love! I'll be back! We'll be together!" He shouted with everything he had, and yet he knew she couldn't hear him.

* * *

He fell.

* * *

Praes woke to the shouting, and knew something was off. For a moment he felt confused, then jubilant. Yes! Something was different, and that was as it was supposed be, supposed to shatter the stiff and separated nature of his "family".

Then he realized it was too early. It was black in one part of the sky, and set afire, literally in flames on the other. "What?" He gasped, sitting up.

"The seas are rising!"

"They're falling!"

"There's no light!"

"There's too much!"

"She's burning all she touches, she's not moving! Not moving, and he's gone! The tides are out of control- flooding, beaching, it's chaos!"

Voices rang around him, Cora, Vita, Mnemnos, and the rest, all in unaccustomed panic. Only one voice absent, a voice suddenly heard when hands like steel reached from nowhere and shook him fully awake, darring him upright and forcing his head back, pointing his gaze to the black and burning skies.

Crono thundered, "What have you done?"

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: This is the last chapter the Powers are the main characters. You'll still see them at times, but it's time for other characters to take center stage._

_Dedicated to Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, stuff'n'nonsense, juggling, Naomi, Rihannon, Illusera, and rpfan1976. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** III**

"What kind of place is this?" Moon looked around, horrified.

"Oh, ignore the lobby." Azraiel ushered him past rooms of fire, rooms of blood and screaming. "You're not meant for this."

"What am I meant for? I'm to get a new form, I was meant to tell her the plan!"

Azraiel soothed, almost clucking as he herded him along a seemingly endless hall. "Don't you worry. You will get out of here as quickly as possible and I'm sure your little friend will tell her everything. We're not keeping you in here, don't worry. We want you out as quickly as you want to leave us." He smiled and nodded.

Moon's shoulders settled. "Well- good. Good. Thank you."

"My Master will meet with you, and he'll discuss some forms with you- all night dwelling ones of course, and then- hm. He'll get you on your way."

"On my way back to where she'll be?"

Azraiel paused. "I'm not sure where she'll be. I can't even stay in here for more than a blink, friend. The gate must be guarded." He pointed to a very simple, unadorned door just ahead. "Master's expecting you. Go on and see what must be done. See you on the other side."

* * *

Crono shook the boy's head from side to side, to the point where a mortal neck would snap, flinging the childlike eyes towards a world half filled with fire, and half filled with a solitary gleam of white in a vast darkness. "Answer me."

"I - fulfilled my purpose." Praespero gasped, finally wrenching himself free.

"What in the creations are you talking about?" Crono roared. His cohorts stopped their panicked patch work on the crises and listened.

"My purpose. To bring hope. They hoped to be free. I freed him." Praes whispered, small voiced but resolute. _I hope you will free her. Looks like you'll have to._

"You- you couldn't possibly free him! Not one such as him!" Crono thundered.

"I undid his bindings. The rest- I had help with." He admitted.

"Crono." Cora stepped forward, a restraining hand out to his, a warning in her eyes.

"You didn't... You spoke to Bartimaeus?" Crono sounded both furious and stunned.

Praes jumped slightly. He'd never heard that tone. He didn't think his father would guess so quickly either. "No... just his gatekeeper. He couldn't get out to meet me- as you should know." A hint of scorn crept into the boy's voice.

"Yes, yes, as well I should know!" Crono's eyes blazed, quite literally. "But now he can. Now he can." He turned abruptly from the boy and towards those he considered more useful. "Head to the gate."

"But- the world is burning."

"And that is the _boy's_ fault. He can take care of it until we see the damage he's caused." With a swirl of clouds and a ripple, Praes found himself alone, confused again.

He swallowed and started moving towards Sun.

* * *

Moon met the man on the throne. A beautiful man, fair skinned, dark haired, with kind eyes that turned black when he smiled, as if light shone out of his grin and left the eyes wanting. He smiled then. "Dear Sir. Waited for you for what seems to be an eternity. And here you are at last."

"I'm glad to be moving on. Thank you." Moon replied cautiously. "You can help me, find a form for me? One that can be with Sun all the time?"

"Well... I haven't yet heard the form Crono's chosen for her. I rather fancy he'll fit you a counterpart." He sneered suddenly, and the fair face was not quite as handsome, more like- cunning, dangerous. "For all his power, when it comes to us, he's always reacted, rather than acted. I'm more clever than he is. Much more, though he'd never admit it. He doesn't know what move to make until_ I _make one."

Moon stared, watching him have this spoken tirade. His eyebrow arched and he decided the quicker he left the better, for multiple reasons.

"You're going to be the first of your kind."

"Glad to hear it. What kind is that?"

"Come take a look at my drawings." Bartimaeus beckoned him over eagerly. "I'll let you pick, of course. Crono won't be so generous. He's a prisoner of his own making, and his prison is control- as I'm sure you know."

Moon laughed and decided this "Master" might be a vain sort of being, but he had nailed Crono. "Well do I know. All right, let's see."

"You've seen all there is to see, at least all there is to see at night, and that's all I really have experience with myself, at least for right now. I hope to expand. The point being, you must have a good idea of what sort of creatures you admire."

Moon answered quickly, "Human?" He saw humans, and humans seemed to excel in the night, excel in showing their love, their passion. Almost as if his light set them off, and knowing that his light was gentle on them, encouraging them to stay together, not pull apart like his beloved and he. The greatest beauties in their words, the most familiar in their loving. Short lived, but what lives! "Can you make me_ human_?" He savored the final word.

Bartimaeus shrugged apologetically and unrolled some scrolls after shuffling through them. "Not _full_ human. Something nearly as good, in many ways better. Care to take a look?"

* * *

She was so bright it hurt to look at her. "Sun? I know you're upset."_ How do I know that? How can I imagine what it's like to suddenly lose your eternal lover and partner, the only one in your world, and the one you die for without question, not just once but millions of times? _

"Upset? Where is he? What have you done to him!?" Her voice cut the sky, and fire shot from her surface, wrapping around her as well as she huddled inside herself. "I'll show you upset! Let me go! Give him back!" Her tears were streaks of falling fire.

"Sun, please, listen! I know it's horrible. He didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Remember, I talked to you, I watched you meet? I talked to him too. He told me to help if I ever could, and I - I tried."

She seemed to relax a moment. The flare faded, ever so slightly. "You helped him?"

"And now- well, soon, Crono should help you. It's true, you can't exist without each other. The moon is empty now. He's gone. He's fine! He's just unbound from his sphere. Soon you will be. Then you can be together."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. "No."

"No?"

"No. I don't believe you. Why would Crono help me? Why would Moon leave me? He didn't tell me this was happening, he didn't say goodbye! I don't believe you! Give him back, tell me where he really is!" And a hail of fire began again.

"It's true, I promise! He wanted to talk to you first, he wanted to say goodbye first! If only for a little while, I promised him I would let him!"

"Then you lied!" This time a sear of heat was directed right at him. Such a beautiful creature, so feminine in form, and yet so purely deadly when she was enraged.

Praes felt the bolt of fire go through him, and blinked, knowing that if he were not a Power, he would be a heap of smoldering remains just then. "Trust me, that was how it was supposed to be! When I left he was unbound and he was to be called to a new form after he told you our plan. I don't know what happened."

"Then I can't trust you, can I?" Another bolt, another, each more weakly thrown, as she seemed to fall. "Please. Please. Just put us back together again- even as we were. I don't want to be without him."

The pain in her seemed to come into him. He felt it crush something inside him, he felt it run out of his eyes. He held out his hands mutely, knowing he couldn't really touch her. "I can't."

* * *

"All these 'designs', strong, some of them are lovely to look at as well." Moon rolled up one of many scrolls.

"Ah, now don't worry, I have male counterparts for every species in mind!" Bartimaeus rushed to assure him. "Handsome ones. Some even stronger than the females. The mass of muscle to - softness, shall we say."

"Right. But all of these- they don't mix with the day?"

"Well, it's not as if they don't _exist _in day, or are not compatible with it. Now this, this one, it simply prefers nocturnal living. It remains in darkness, but it doesn't change form or cease activity in the sunlight. Restricted activity, that's all."

"She's- she's so much light, you see. I need something that can make her happy in the form they keep her in."

"She loves you. She'll love your form." He tapped a scroll. "This one. This one is the closest to human in form. In feature." He dared to run a hand over Moon's cheek, then down his back. "In the way it can pleasure..." The hand stopped above the waist, a significant lilt in his voice. "I'm sure you want something that couples nicely with a female form."

Moon stepped back, but nodded. "I don't know if Crono'll turn her into a human."

"Well... here's the thing. With this being, if you bite it, you'll transform it. A simple exchange of fluids and you can create something like yourself."

"What, anything? Like I can turn dolphins into humans? What about trees?"

"No!" Bartimaeus barely kept his voice even. "No... the- the element I will give you, a certain infusion, let's call it, it passes. You're the first. You can make anything you like with that power. Even if she's a human, or some creature only able to stand light, if she comes to you, you can give her your essence, make her like yourself."

"What if she doesn't want to be that way?"

"It won't matter. The body is still compatible with a human's. In fact, if you're not fussy, most of us aren't down here, it can be compatible with whatever you wish. You have transformative powers yourself. You know that, don't you, Moon?"

"What? No. I can't do anything special, not without the sphere."

"Special? Special, Moon, with an immortal soul and a celestial form that's a cross between angels and Powers! You're built for this. And you're packed," he made a sudden fist, "packed with power." He licked his lips. "I took you at your height. I had to. So that you can light our way. Our first endeavors."

"Endeavors? Ours? I thought I was your first project, that was all."

"You could be much more. You are the Ruler of Night. I am the King of Darkness. We could be like brothers, you and I, if we united in purpose. We could throw Crono down and create a place without rules, without gates. Picture the freedom! Freedom to move, to create... to love. To take in passion, and give in pleasure. And anger. Vengeance." Those dark eyes bored into him. "Freedom, Moon. Like you'll have. You can help me give it to everything, every being."

He stared. One word finally penetrated the awed haze. "How?"

"You're made of several parts, Moon. None of them belong here... you're going to be freed from this place and take something with you- take many things with you." Bartimaeus whispered. "Open a kingdom on the other side of this gate, a kingdom like Crono never imagined." _Never wanted. Never thought I could find a way to make, thought he'd stopped me._

_ I don__'t want power. I just want her. That's all the kingdom I need. _ "I don't want to rule. I don't think I'm that being anymore, no ruler, not worthy of being a 'brother' to you." He said humbly. "Would you give me my new form anyway?"

_Something is better than nothing. After this long. So long._ "Of course." He gestured again to the scrolls. "Any form you like."

* * *

Being unbound by the boy was peaceful, a sensation of lightness and freedom. Being called down to this gate had been a surprising, tearing from his sphere and his course, from the plans to see his love.

This was painful. Tearing. Hopeful. Because when it was done- he'd be free to find her, see her when he liked.

* * *

"What sound is that?" Azraiel was suddenly back, drawn by the clamor, the sound of winds howling in a place where the was no wind.

"That's the sound of solid separating from spirit." His Master wove the air around a being in the middle of chis chambers, caught in what seemed to be a contained cyclone of light, flesh, and something dark that flowed from his hands into the body.

"What did he choose?"

"Something complex, of course. I'd expect no less. Why aren't you at the gate?"

"They're not going to try to get in, Master. They'll try to keep you out."

"I won't be leaving." With a final twist and a grunt, the wind stopped and two balls of light filled the air, one soft and pulsing with quiet white light, one angry, dark and surging. One tore from the room without any assistance. "First tear." Master grinned.

"That was a soul! A human soul?"

"Not quite human. It's a waiting soul. It'll get find its way to the place where the souls go, and Crono's cronies will send into some wailing innocent babe in the human world. It'll pass for one. Be raised as one." He sighed and beckoned the dark surging sphere to come to him, and it obediently flew to his palm. "But I keep my promises, Azraiel. He'll find his new form. After I've used it for a bit."

The hands began to weave the air again, eyes focused on a spread out scroll.

"I thought he was going to help us build a race, slip through the gate?"

"He is. This bit of him... this power." He paused. "He rejected my offer. To help rule a new race, a new world. But he still wanted the new form. He'll get two- and one day it'll simply be one. This-" the ball slipped into his whirling shimmer of air, "passes. From beautiful evil to beautiful evil. It'll find the other half eventually, and he'll welcome it, as if something he's always wanted was suddenly gifted to him."

Bartimaeus sank down suddenly, collapsing by the form of his first creation, made of stolen power and practicing on souls for eternities.

A beautiful evil indeed. Ridged face, claws, muscles, humanoid but clearly not human. Its eyes opened, yellow and searing, the eyes of a hungry beast.

"Multiply." He whispered to it, seeing the vacancy in its eyes. "You can leave here, you were not sent down, you were meant for the skies, and so you can return."

"Does he know who he is?" Azraiel whispered.

"No. Neither half of him does. They would have, had he let me keep him whole, but he didn't want the job. No will to turn and make my army for me. This half remembers the rage of being imprisoned. Being kept from what it wanted. Lusting, pain, anger, hunger- a being of all passions." He stared proudly at the being as it snarled, clearly remembering the emotions spoken of, if not the situation. "Go. Find, feed, take."

And this time, the being moved on its own.

* * *

It was only a sliver of a sliver, one tiny little soul flying from the door, pulled by laws as old as the Powers themselves, the laws of who could exist in that realm, and who could not, and where souls go while they wait to be born. It joined the millions of others, humming little balls that waited to be flung into galaxies and times, to be born into whatever fate and uninvolved Powers had decreed.

* * *

It lunged through, only one broken bit in a door eternally strong.

That was enough.

They had been waiting since being imprisoned. Not the condemned souls. No, those who'd once been free, ones who had ones been powerful above mortals, ones who had rebelled with Bartimaeus against Crono.

They called themselves demons now, and they had been waiting for this moment.

* * *

Praes felt helpless. Hopeless. Failure. Everything had gone wrong. His family, such as it was, had fled to the gate to stop Bartimaeus.

_To stop him from freeing Moon? To stop him from getting a new form? They said nothing must get out, so did that mean Moon was now trapped forever, just in a new prison? _

_ Maybe Crono will send Sun in there so they can at least be together. He can__'t let her stay up here... _

He started when he heard voices returning, loud, angry, exhausted voices, quieter ones that were puzzled and saddened. He cast a quick look to the sky- the empty sphere still hung small and motionless where it had been since Moon left it.

"They've been separated enough. Spread out over dimensions and times. The one that he made- that's the unpredictable one. Where did it land?" Crono's voice was naturally the loudest, the angriest, and most exhausted.

"Earth. After the flood, after the continents broke." Terras sighed. "Before language, after sorcery. Maybe they'll kill him quickly. Does anyone know?"

"It doesn't happen. That beast- in a few years, but his spawn- centuries. Longer." Crono sounded as if he might weep, which thoroughly unnerved everyone.

Praes kept quiet as they entered the area where he sat, just listening for information. Moon had gotten out!

And they hoped he'd die. He shivered inside, but couldn't bring himself to ask anything, not after the trouble he'd caused.

"What about her?" Cora gestured to the lake of fire above them.

"I'll have to re-chart their courses, obviously. Make them orbitally driven, with no life force behind them." Crono said dismissively.

"Can- can she at least go to him? If you're taking the life force from the Sun? You don't need her in it anymore." Praespero whispered timidly.

All eyes turned to him. Fixing him with had gazes, Crono's hardest of all. "After all this, after making it possible for a plague of evil in corporeal form to run amuck across time and space- you still care about whether Sun can join Moon? Moon, who began this riot?"

He swallowed. "Yes. If I stopped caring about that, all of- all of my mistakes would be for nothing. I've done something horrible, though I swear I didn't mean to, but if nothing good can come out of it, what was its purpose?" He continued in a whisper.

Eyes softened. Not his father's, no, never those. All the others.

"He truly is our hope."

"He has you there, Crono. Purpose, always purpose."

"I will deal with him! The rest of you, go back to your duties, repair what you can from this fiasco!"

Everyone fled, except for Cora. He didn't urge her a second time, too consumed with rage and now advancing on his target.

"Yes. Yes, she'll go to where he is. Half of him. You didn't realize that, did you? They're made up of parts both flesh and spirit? Parts are better suited to a life as mortals, parts immortal. They'll be split apart, even in new forms. You've condemned them to new forms yes, but they'll never be whole."

He flinched at the harsh words, the realizations. "Will they- will they be together at all?"

"Are you this dense?" Crono thundered.

"If they're together, even without all of their parts, I think they'll consider themselves whole! That is the way they love, Father!"

"Well, then I hope he finds peace in his last moments." Crono ground out.

"What?"

"They've created a beast of evil, a creature of night, of darkness. Now I must create a warrior of light to save the humans from the scourge unleashed upon them. So, yes. I will send her to him, part of her, to part of him, and she will kill him. She will be what I send to stop him. And that-" the towering form heaved out a shuddering breath, "is just the beginning of the solution to the problems you've created. They will fight each other. Always. 'Day and night'. Congratulations, boy. You've helped set a force of monsters upon a primitive planet, and now I have to figure out how to build a soul- no not even a human soul, it couldn't stand it! I must make something new, able to withstand the pain of killing what she once loved, and have that essence passed along throughout time, to keep on killing it's spawn." He spat.

"Can't you stop it? They've already lived through that! I didn't know, I only wanted to help! They loved each other, Father!" He begged.

"Don't call me father! I am Crono, and you are not my son! You dwell too much on the emotional aspects of living beings. It muddled your head. It muddles you now." He glowered down on him. "Stay out of this, and out of my way. What's done is done, and I must fix it. However I can."

* * *

Praes fell to his knees after Crono stormed out._ What've I done?_ "They love each other... they cannot be sentenced to war against each other, she cannot be made his executioner. It's not his fault his form is split, and one part is evil. He didn't ask for that. He didn't know. I didn't know." He ranted to himself.

"She killed him each dawn. He took her life each night." A soft voice startled him.

"Cora. I - I didn't notice you were still here." He scurried to his feet, ashamed to have been caught bawling like the baby they must think he was.

"I can't talk to him when he's so enraged." She drifted to him softly, a maternal cloud with a sad smile, waving at the path Crono has taken. "He's angry. Because he knew."

"Knew?"

"He is the Power that knows the elements of time and space, dimensions, futures and pasts. He knew there would be these races, the creatures of darkness, and the warriors of light. You've seen them before, glimpses, when you view certain realms and times. There was a time- before this time, when the humans were alone then, there was a time when they came, and the humans began to be affected by something, by the magic of non-human creations and elements. And he knew- it was his stubbornness that caused it."

"Oh, no. No, it was all my fault." Even though he ached to be absolved, he was fair. "How can you say it's his mistake when I'm the one who began all this?"

"Crono knew how it happened, yet he thought he could somehow prevent it. It's also his wounded pride. Bartimaeus has done something- though it is by use of what Crono created- to create something _new._ Taking bits of human, fallen, and an immortal soul, he's made what will one day be called simply 'demons'. And there will be thousands of kinds. For now there is only one in the human realm, but for a time the realm was ripped and until it was repaired, things escaped through, these demons. Once they find other worlds and other beings, they will corrupt- and then create new beings through their corruptions. Crono has a challenger, and he is evil. He thought he could keep that challenge from ever happening, if he controlled the rest- thought he knew, or should have known that he couldn't. Even as powerful as one power is, he is not more powerful than the others."

"He's more powerful than me." Praes mourned. _If he wasn't, then maybe I would have a chance to fix the problem, to help the ones I _meant _to help._

Core disagreed with him, hands on his shoulders._ "_No. Nothing, not time and space, not life, nor death, is more powerful than hope. So. He knew what you did was unalterable. And he knows what I will do now." She sighed. "Which may be why he seems cold to me. It doesn't matter."

"What you will do? What _can _you do? You heard him. he has to create a warrior of light to hunt the creatures of darkness. They were in love, and now they'll be enemies." He was almost in tears once again. "Even before, when they did die, it was for love, to sacrifice to give the other life. Now it will be because they must fight each other to the death."

"Ah- Praes did you notice anything about Moon, when you unbound his soul from the sphere?"

"Did I?" He frowned a moment. "When I learned about mortals, and unbinding- they have a single strand that holds the soul to body. He had a strand- and a chain. And all these other smaller threads. But he isn't mortal so..."

Cora smiled knowingly. "I know. For the moon is timeless, and souls are ageless, and he was not mortal or immortal in the true sense of the word- and now he will be both."

"How is that possible?"

"By Bartimaeus' cunning, and by my promise." She sat, and pulled him with her. "Crono can create, but so can I." She sighed suddenly, "You were right in what you said to me before- I fill. I give the spark. My words..." Her voice took on a quality he hadn't heard before. He could hear heartbeats and blood pumping in her voice as her eyes turned bright white, as her hands began to shape the air into an illustration of her words. "Two souls, two forms - die twice. Two souls, two forms- never die." She drew two human figures, rough outlines, one male, one female, then two flames, one black and pulsing, one white and fiery. "When forms rejoin and forms meet, then in three kisses- they shall remember what they once were. They shall be whole again." The flames entered the human forms, and they began to move on their own. The figures clasped hands as Praes watched, open mouthed, and Cora's voice dropped. "In three times, not three times total. But then the fighting will stop. The sun and the moon, in their new forms, will live together happily and at peace. Like they should be, as is the gift of hope."

* * *

"Thank you. Mother." Praes bowed at her knees as her eyes stopped glowing and the airy pictures vanished. She didn't deny him the title. "What will happen now?"

She gave him an exhausted smile, barely able to lift the corners of her mouth. "Crono is separating the Sun's essences, as Moon's were. The thing that is to be called demon, the immortal part of Moon, went down into the human world in a time between men and monsters. He in a way is both." She patted the boy as he gave a remorseful shudder. "Crono will have to send Sun's essence to that time, to combat it, to keep the evil in check."

"But they - they won't know it's their lover, part of their lover they fight?"

"No. They will most likely sense a connection, a passion. It might be hatred. It might be curiosity. Eventually it might be love. But these essences will pass, both by death, though in different ways." She wiped a hand across her eyes. "Best you do not find out all details at once. But I will not keep you waiting for knowledge you need, that was our mistake in the past." She assured him quickly as he was about to protest. "Those are the immortal parts."

"And the mortals?"

"Two souls- not quite human, but they will be passed like any other human. They will be cast into their shells, and born into the world."

He sensed there was something he was not being told, something that didn't sound quite right. He could see in her eyes that he wouldn't like the answer. "And those 'human' souls, they'll be together in their mortal lives?"

"Yes- and no." She held up a warning finger, making him silent so she could explain. "The world is wide, and time is wider. Like any other human, that's the problem. Souls, even these with their special properties, have destinies, and purposes, that make their owners who they are. He and she are very different, and very much the same. They won't be neatly dropped into the same life sphere- or even the same life time."

His mind circled dizzily, trying to figure out how they would ever reunite then. "Die twice?"

"And so live longer as each time they rise, gives them more time to find the other. He will be born into the world first, he was torn from his sphere first. She's much later."

"But it's not been that long!"

"Not to us. To the mortal world, it is almost a century's difference. And by the time her soul is born into a human, it will be a little more."

"Humans lived for centuries in the times past." He comforted himself.

"Not in their times." Cora shook her head. "That's what makes them unique. He will have to take the immortal essence of himself back, to keep alive until he finds her."

"But isn't the immortal essence the thing called the demon? And it's evil?"

"Yes."

"It passes by death!"

"His first one, yes."

His eyes closed. "So this evil will kill him, then keep him alive, and when he meets her?"

"She will already be holding her own immortal essence."

"Which is meant to destroy his." This was sounding more and more hopeless with each passing bit of knowledge._ Maybe I was better kept in the dark._

"But ultimately, they will not destroy one another. They may come close." She chuckled. "Prae- remember who they are. They 'destroyed' one another constantly. They can survive this. They _will _survive this. Remember my promise. Two deaths. Three times these forms kiss. Then they remember their past, their love. Peace and happiness."

"They've struggled so long already! They're being made to harm each other, not love each other! They're in different times, they're in different states of being!" He clutched his head. "This sounds impossible to fix."

"Ah, dear. But they do that which seems impossible. That's what makes their love story one that will last forever."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: Some of Season Five's dialogue is used in this chapter. Sorry for the long delay, but hope it will seem worth the wait. _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, stuff'n'nonsense, juggling, Naomi, ValidescopeWest, Illusera, madcloisfan, kittyfajitas, and rpfan1976. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** IV**

_Moon_

_Essence_

He came to the earth ravenous and angry. He did not remember gently glowing down upon it. He felt a continuous longing and a rage- perhaps a sense memory of seeing what he could not have, and hating his prison?

He came looking for his missing piece, something he could not name in his primal state. He heard blood pumping, he felt cravings, to find, and take, and have. He didn't know this was evil. He knew that he grabbed the being that he found, a human, and he bit into her instinctively, tasting life, tasting passion, and he knew he felt that burning creature inside himself twist a bit, and spread.

He had no words, only instincts. When she lay limp in his arms, he could hear the heartbeat slowing, and he knew she was dying. But not meant to stay dead. Meant to burn and feel the passion, the pain, a gift at his hand, in exchange for his life. From his lifeblood, such as it was. He tore open the skin on his own arm and held it to her lips, pouring it down her throat. The creature inside him stilled, passed a bit of his angry pain, his insatiability onto her, and he was satisfied for the moment.

For the moment. He knew the need would come back. He hid when the sun rose, taking her quiet form with him into the dark of a deep jungle, his angry growls keeping all other predators away from his kill.

When he saw the sun through the overhead branches as he made his hiding place, something ached. He held out his hand, and the ray burnt him. A familiar pain, yet he knew he'd never seen that glowing, empty ball of light before.

The creature in him did not like this sadness. It liked things fast and heated, hard and vital. Yet the sadness would not go, and he knew that he was always going to be the sun's prisoner, forced away from it while still somehow bound by it, and that he, even in his virile, rich state, was going to live a half life until that sun had no power over him. Or he had power over it.

The rage started to build in him again, the hunger itched the fangs in his mouth as he lay beside his first offspring, waiting to see the moon once more.

* * *

_Sun_

_Essence_

The Powers made it. The shamans called it. They called it into a living girl, unwilling, bound, a princess from one warring tribe. She was told in actions, for they had no words, that it was her duty to be bound and to be filled with one of the strange spirits they captured in the air, and to be filled next with the Light. She was Chosen.

She could feel the dark invade her. It gave her knowledge, instincts, strength. She could smell her prey. She could sense it, see in the dark cave where before she'd been blind, and she knew she would hunt in the darkness, like the blood-takers that were spreading through her land.

She felt the Light enter- and it was like she woke up. She woke up angry, bitter, and blood thirsty. She wanted to avenge those robbed by the blood-takers. It was not to protect the innocent, it was not to fulfill a purpose- that would come after she saw a life saved by her own hand, saw the tears in someone's eyes as they walked away instead of crumpling down. Now it was only about one thing.

She was forced into this, by the actions of the blood-taker and his spawn. He was the cause. He was why she was alone. He was why the night would never again be a time of peace for her. She was cast into darkness, though filled with light, all because of him.

* * *

_Moon and Sun_

_Essence_

The first of his kind, he fed, and made, and created a race. And the race expanded.

Then shrank, rapidly. One of the humans had become more than a human, and had learned how to fight his spawn. One day, she learned to fight him.

A bitter, screaming, clawing battle, his fangs against her bones, and her wooden spears against his skin. She was tireless, and merciless. He was hungry and he had a feeling that if he could triumph over her, something would be gained, something significant, not just another kill. No, not a kill. A turning.

He let his guard down for a moment, after hours upon hours of raging against her. He had an offer in his eyes, for he could sense the exhaustion in her, the fear, and the anger and how she wanted to simply be free. Free from her own sort of curse, this light warrior.

She saw the offer as he stilled. The soft grunt he made was different than all the others they'd made so far. She drew up short, and he lunged.

Oh she was sweet. Far, far sweeter than anything he'd ever dreamed of- and so familiar. Her blood burned him, from throat to loins.

Like someone's touch had once done, and he'd welcomed it.

She gasped as she felt the deep hole welling into her throat, and she pushed him away, one hand frantically pressing to the bleeding wound. He advanced toward her again, and this time she pushed back harder, swinging her legs up as she used her hunting spear for leverage, a powerful two-footed kick that sent him careening backwards out of the thicket- and into the first rays of the dawn.

As he caught fire, he let out a howl. He turned to ash slowly, hissing at the new sensation, that somehow, he thought he'd lived through before.

She stumbled away, feeling colder and colder each step. Victory tasted empty now. Vengeance was not sweet today. It was just - confusing. Cold. Dark. She stopped and looked at her hand. It was soaked with her own blood, and it pooled down her neck. She sat heavily on the ground, and as her eyes fluttered, she fell to her side.

Cold and dark. They swallowed her and sent her on a journey of waiting. Waiting to live again. To see him again. Fight again.

Cold.

Dark.

Swallowing her for the first time, only she was sure it had taken her many times before.

* * *

Praes found a time to approach Cora alone. Not easy these days, in the aftermath of events. "They've died their first death. This is moving quicker than I thought."

"If you want to see the end, dear, you know how to peer through different times." She pointed out complacently.

"I want to keep an eye on them." He said staunchly. She sighed. "What?"

"The first forms have died. Their essences did not. They are still very much alive. They have merely passed to other forms."

"So this death?"

"Doesn't count."

He groaned. "That's not fair."

"It's not about fair, it's about bringing them to the point where they can be whole." Cora admonished sternly. "I'm doing what I can with the pieces I have."

"I know, I know." He hastily apologized. "What_ will _count?"

"When the corporeal forms pass. In some case the form is already joined with the essence, in one case not."

"That's not very specific."

"I deal in prophecy, Prae."

"Right. You said two deaths count, but how many times will they face off and kill each other?"

"Not many. His essence was to follow a specific line, and so will hers. They are both hard to kill, and they will fight to survive." She hesitated. "That is not to say that there won't be many deaths for the forms that carry their essence. Those essences will never fade, Praes. But they will not often meet one another in battle."

He winced, but nodded. "So three kisses means...?"

"Praespero, when Sun and Moon reunite, before their memories return, they will kiss many, many times. But there will only be three kisses that have my power in them. And like that, they, in part, will face many deaths, but there are only two that will be in their correct forms. Trust me."

"I find it hard to trust anyone these days. Even myself." He whispered as he squeezed her hand once and left.

* * *

_Moon_

_Essence_

There was a piece missing from what would be born into a human a form, a dark piece, going through the angry creature embodying evil. It passed widely from hunter to prey at first, until it learned that creating more spawn meant more notice, and more likelihood to bring the thing which hunted him down on his head. It also meant more prey to share, and more care to take, for something in the evil beast he'd become was still protective.

When demons from the underworld and wherever the Powers had cast them after the first rift he had caused began to make their way back to the human earth, his spawn were more careful still. Cunning. Cruel. Wise. Every bit as evil. They ruled the lands they wanted, even if it meant fighting other demons for that right.

But in time, Moon's line was only one of several that plagued the humans. Out of four major groups of what the humans would call "vampires" in the future, his modern line began with a well-spoken, truly vicious man who would earn the name "Master".

* * *

And the Master had been a power hungry mortal who was evil in his mortal soul and continued his rein of evil in death. He sired many "children" in his years upon the Earth, attempting to bring about an evil prophecy and create a kingdom of blood that would need an army of faithful servants. Of all his children, the most precious and favored Childe was called Darla.

Darla perhaps should not have been claimed as his favorite, because like her human self, she was headstrong, willful, and sought her own pleasures and luxuries - even at the expense of her loyalty. While the Master attempted to create his earthly army, she abandoned his cause in search of her own adventures. The Master became trapped in his quest to bring about human destruction, along with all of his servants. After that, his line could only pass through that one missing Childe.

Darla sired many less than the Master, for she was consumed with a desire to serve herself, and not "raise a family". She preferred to sire a mate who would become a partner in hunting and procuring human luxuries she had been denied as a mortal. She chose a man in whom she saw lust and selfishness, a penchant for his joy at other's expense, and knew he would become the most ruthless of killers, in spite of his handsome face and soulful eyes. Thus Darla turned Angelus, the Demon with the Face of an Angel.

Angelus lived up to his name, for he was truly demonic, while passing as fine gentleman, able to pull off courtly manners and worm his way into many homes and parties- only to take delight in turning the full force of his evil on the unsuspecting ones. He killed many, sired few. He only turned those he thought would have the greatest chance for following in his path of cunning destruction and artful killing, or those he believed would suffer longer in a turned state. His Sire made no demands of him in regards to these habits, as long as he let her watch his masterpieces unfold.

* * *

Moon's essence had fragmented as it passed through many generations, and then solidified as the drain on it became smaller and smaller. The passion and fury had dulled to some mindless bestial brutality- and was now refining and sharpening again, as if it was just waiting to meet the true vessel. Only one more more to go...

It was as if Angelus had hand picked her, knowing her destiny was to reunite flesh and intangible essence. If he had been looking for someone who would feed into Moon's sense of protection, longing for love, anger at injustice and desire to break free- he could not have picked a better Sire for him- Drusilla. Virginal and innocent, tortured by her own visions, he drove her to complete madness and defiled her in sync with turning her- creating his greatest masterpiece- endless torment, endless suffering. Darla wasn't too pleased when she found out, not that she objected to defiling and torturing. No, she objected to Angelus' attachment to the waif. For the first time in her undead journey, she had been saddled with something she couldn't abandon- well, that Angelus _wouldn't _abandon, and she was loathe to abandon him. At the time.

The line began to fray from within, and just as well, for it was about to be knitted up in the mortal body of its original owner.

* * *

_Moon_

_Immortal, mortal, earthly form_

It slipped down, this bright glowing thing they called a soul, passing for human but with something running through it. The Powers let them go, and they fly on their own, with only the most casual of guidance, into the forms they're meant to have in life. They were already made to match, you see. Moon's form would fit him.

* * *

_Rebirth_

He came to earth, pale and peaceful, like his rays, silent and white-blue. The midwife dreaded telling Mrs. Pratt that yet another one had come out stillborn, and she slapped the life back into his lungs, determined that this labor would not be in vain, that a son and heir would finally find its long awaited way into the family home.

He screamed and told the world he had come down upon it, tired of being chained above, spectating and impotent. His mother wept, in the next room his father thanked the Lord in loud, hearty tones, and the midwife breathed a sigh of relief. This child made his mark on the world from the moment he arrived. He had purpose. "Was meant to be, this one, Mrs. Pratt." She laid the babe on his mother's soaked gown and watched her fall in love. "Ah. This one. Meant to be."

_Growth_

He shined- but quietly. He rebelled, but discreetly. His teachers knew him as a bright boy, fast learner, eager scholar who thirsted for knowledge but displayed an unusual amount of wisdom and quiet reflection for a young boy. His teachers liked him, as they often like quiet, sensitive pupils. The other boys did not. He wasn't much for games, but when pushed to it, he was fast. And once, when the local stray cat had been caught by an older boy with obvious ill-intent, they saw a vicious side of William Pratt. The cat left with more skin than its captor.

There was talk of disciplining the boy, but it was a first offense. And, as everyone in the staff quarters was quick to point out, Mr. Pratt had just been taken by the influenza, and his widow was not at all well. William had always been devoted to his parents, and they to him, the only son of a long, prosperous marriage. This might be William's last term at a public school until university proper if Mrs. Pratt felt the need to bring the boy home to finish his early education.

_Maturing_

He was content to stay by his mother's side, content to travel home every weekend from Cambridge once he was accepted, content to return home to live and manage his father's estate from there instead of taking to business or further academics. It felt oddly familiar to be devoted to only one other being, one other pursuit. Something protective swelled in his nature, the already earnest love and devotion to parent growing into something that had deep, unknowingly deep, roots.

The world that he loved to explore in words, most often in verse, was unkind to him as he turned from boy to man. It had always been so, but now there was no escaping it, because he could not dive into books and studies in the one area of life he craved.

* * *

"You needn't stay in with me, William."

"Mother, nowhere I'd rather be." He smiled at the pale woman in the wicker lounge chair. "I wish you'd give me your opinion on this piece."

"In a moment." She smiled suddenly, "Is it for that girl? Mrs. Fortner's niece who came to tea last week?"

"No! Silly creature." He could tell the way she looked at him, over his spectacles and the curling untidy bangs that he kept neglecting to trim, that he was not her sort. Even though, yes, he would have liked to be considered. He would have liked to be considered by any woman at this point, with twenty five already gone and thirty seeming to loom ahead.

"Me? Or what was her name? Millicent?"

"Margaret." He corrected, "And of course not you, dear sweet Mother. Silly though you are today. Now, listen." He read to her, a verse that didn't quite flow, seemed to stop and start, too laden with imagery, too frustrated for words.

A love poem, for the man abundantly capable of love, even the eternal sort, who had yet to put it to practice.

"It's very good, Darling. It might be a bit heavy handed towards the end."

"Hmm, I thought that as well." He scribbled out a line, considering what to replace. But words wouldn't come. The frustration mounted, as if a little voice somewhere deep inside whispered that he was already partnered, had already sampled all the delights of Cupid's grove, and yet he knew this to be impossible. He had made the attempt to court many times, and each time had an adversary snatch away the woman of his choice, or put him to such a disadvantage that he was never given a chance. He recognized the feeling of defeat, not just from recent experiences, but with a nagging sense he could not shake, each time it happened, the desire to break free of … _something, _flooded him. There were moments of such rage it froze his blood, burned his insides, and yet- he could do nothing. Chained by something invisible but all too real. He usually withdrew, knowing he was needed at home and too used to using words instead of fists to defend himself in the heat of the moment.

"William. You're not listening to me."

His mother's tired voice shook him from his thoughts. "Sorry, Mother."

"I should like to see grandchildren before I pass."

Color rose past his starched color. "Mother! Stop saying such things. I'm not even thirty. Many men of property wait until they're well established in their own enterprise to find a wife."

"I won't make it until that time unless you hurry." She said gently.

He frowned at her, panic rising so easily in him. He hadn't been able to save her… _Save her? Save who?_ "I don't want to hear you talk of it!" He glared.

"When I battled the influenza that took your father, though I won - the doctors said it would weaken me, permanently. They didn't expect me to survive, William, not when your father hadn't." He nodded silently. "You remember the years after that? How ill I could become, so very quickly?"

Of course he did. A little chill turned into a terrible fever, colds became inflammation of the lungs, infections and colds came upon her easily, while he again watched helplessly if he were home, or tortured himself until their next meeting, if he were away. "We should send you on another course to the coast. The air did you so much good last time."

"The doctor says that may be where I caught this." Mrs. Pratt smiled weakly.

"The doctor's been again?" His eyebrows jumped.

"Only briefly. He says that these things move slowly. I could have a few years left, but… there is no cure, William."

Cannot save her. Cannot free her. She was meant to live so much longer, so much happier. Words seared into his heart and mind, and he stopped listening. He dully agreed to attend a party given by an old friend of his father's that night, at his mother's request.

* * *

_Dying_

When you die, a little of you can go slowly, like Mrs. Pratt's disease seemed to travel, sapping a little more strength, a little more breath, week by week. A slow, insidious death. Or it can be all at once, a sudden fatal blow to the head or the heart. William's was the latter.

He met Cecily at the party his mother had persuaded him to go to, and for the first time in his longing life, he thought he had a chance at success. She didn't change the subject when he discussed his mother, shy away from his speech when it became, as he was aware it did at times, too flowery or a touch condescending. A lovely, if full, face and figure, and oddly most attractive, her hair- a riot of curls that made his own dirty blonde tousle look tame and neat in comparison. Best of all, she seemed to prefer his company to that of any of the other male guests.

"A-are you staying London for the season?" He faltered, voice too high and reedy for his taste. Behind him, two chaps in regimental ties chuckled and nudged each other.

"Yes, staying with my aunt. She's rather elderly and a bit deaf. She likes the company in the day, but doesn't mind my socializing once she retires. Provided it's with suitable company, of course."

"Of course!"

"I find you very suitable company, William." She laughed lightly and patted his arm.

He was shot through the heart, a single telling blow from a figurative arrow.

* * *

After three or four weeks of mutually convenient social engagements, he could keep silent no longer. He'd been trying for several nights to tell her how he felt, and nothing came out. He relied on words in ink. Seeing the world through the poet's more objective eye always seemed more natural. What better way to confess his love?

_Although… It doesn't feel quite right. It doesn't- _burn._ It captivates, yes, but… where's the sting? I felt Cupid's arrow cleanly pierce, and yet I… it's a feeling of joy! Relief. There's no burn. _

_ Perhaps it's only the words that aren't right. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm succeeding this time. Yes, that's it. That's why there's no pain._ No one had interfered yet to keep him from Cecily, to take her from him. A painful but well known pattern of being kept from his desires, of always seeking but never gaining was breaking.

_ Of course there's joy. Relief. It's like… finally seeing the sun after a long, dark, night._

* * *

_Luminous... oh, no, no, no. Irradiant's better._ He was scribbling frantically as he awaited her entrance. All his words, and yet they still weren't right, didn't capture the beauty.

Maybe part of him knew this beauty wasn't the one he was seeing with his inner eye.

"Care for an hors d'oeuvre, Sir?"

William jumped. His mother never interrupted him while creating a new composition. He darted a quick glance for Cecily, and not seeing her, he snapped to the man, " Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for 'gleaming'? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see."

"I've no idea, Sir."

"No matter, no matter." William rose as she entered, flanked by two men, one in evening dress, one in dress uniform. _Cecily__… _His pen fairly skated across the paper, before finally sighing and heading toward her.

"I mean to point out that it's something of a mystery and the police should keep an open mind." He heard the uniformed one say as he drew near.

"William!" Cecily smiled as he approached.

"Good evening." He answered breathlessly.

"Ah yes, William." The man in black tie and tails said his name with a sneer. "Favor us with your opinion. What do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves? What plague befalls old London, eh?"

"I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what the police are for." He gave Cecily, a gentle creature if ever there was one, a smile. "I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty."

The one in uniform gave a snide smile and snatched the paper from William's hands. "I see. Well, don't withhold, William. Share your 'beauty'."

A jeering rejoinder from his comrade, while Cecily just looked on, curiously. "Rescue us from a dreary topic, William!"

Tormented. Helpless. Unable to act as he wanted. Aware the one he loved, or believed he loved, was watching him. _This isn't what I want! Not how I planned! _"Please, it's not finished!" He attempted to snatch it back, only to be pushed back, quite roughly, while his paper was hoisted above his head.

"Tush, Pratt. Don't be shy." He gave a fake cough, preparing to orate, and read loudly the words meant to be whispered, shared privately. "My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it, inspired by your beauty, effulgent.' What?" A coarse laugh, "_Effulgent_?"

By this time the entire room had been caught in the spectacle. That's what I am, William thought with a sense of doom, of having been down this path so often. _I'm the spectacle. They look at me, they never think of me, what I am, who I am, what I want- I'm a puppet, bashed around by the beings who are stronger. _He made a noise low in his throat, but it was quickly replaced by a muted whimper of mortification as the room erupted into laughter, and Cecily shot him a pained, confused look before darting away. William tried to run after her, only to be blocked. "Let me pass!" He demanded.

"Who was this written for, William? Mumsie, was it?"

"It's none of your business, Sir!"

"For heaven's sake, Monty, don't ask him anymore questions! He might recite for us! Leave well enough alone!"

He was trapped in a throng of laughter, cruel and mocking, passed roughly from side to side as he tried to move and kept being blocked and pushed about. No doubt it was all in what these hearty fellows would call a "sporting manner", all in jest, and if he showed his temper was near to breaking, it would make the situation worse. Poor William, sensitive lad. Run home to mummy. All the things he'd heard before.

"I say, that's actually one of his better compositions!"

"Let me pass!" He growled again, through gritted teeth, and ducked and elbowed through hard, upsetting glasses and canapés in his wake. He was finally able to leave the pressing, mocking crowd, but their words chased him.

"Have you heard? They call him 'William the Bloody' because of his bloody awful poetry!"

"It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff!"

Don't tempt me, William thought darkly, heart twisting as he saw Cecily huddling alone on a stone bench outside the French windows. "Cecily!" He breathed.

She turned as he joined her on the veranda. "Oh. William, do leave me alone." She was flushed and refused to meet his eye.

He could imagine how she felt. Borne the brunt of far too many similar moments. He tried to comfort her, his desire to help a woman in distress something that brought out the strongest portions of his character. "Don't mind them. They're not worth your thoughts. They're - they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I." _Gentle souls. Souls who love peace and beauty. That's all we want. Peace, beauty- and love, of course. _

She stared at him, frowning. Blinking. "You and I, William?"

"Yes! You and I." He sat down beside her, rather closer than acquaintances of such short duration should sit. She leaned away from him, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?"

He responded well to the power in her, never shown before. He nodded eagerly. "Anything."

"Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about _me_, are they?"

_Of course they are_. Only… he somehow could not say it wholeheartedly. They were written with the intent of giving to Cecily. But they were surely about something more. "They're about how I feel." He explained breathlessly.

"Yes, but are they about _me_?"

_They're about the woman I love. So, yes. They must be. _ "Every syllable." He boldly declared, reaching for her hand.

She snatched it back, looking aghast. "Oh, God!"

"Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but... the feeling behind them- the feelings are real. I love you, Cecily." He confessed.

"How can you- William, stop saying such things!" She cried.

He faltered, puzzled by her almost angry tone. "I know I'm a bad poet, but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me-"

"I do see you! I see you as a harmless companion, someone safe to be with during what is surely the most tedious season London has ever had for me!"

"I- I don't understand. You _are _safe. I swear it. I would never harm you."

"I know! And what's more, Claude knows. When he returns from his tour and asks who I've been about with, and I tell him my days were spent with my aunt and my evenings with William Pratt, they're will be no question of needing to further ease his mind!"

"Claude?"

"My intended. He's an officer in the army, due back in three more weeks, and we're to be married in the winter. Surely you heard?" His dumbstruck face alarmed her, and angered her. "Didn't you know? _Everyone _knows! There are members of Claude's regiment here, have been wherever I've gone in the past few weeks. Since we met."

The world swirled. Everyone knew- but him. Because people didn't see him, didn't speak to him, and before Cecily he seldom went out. They left him alone unless driven to interact. And surely, that knowledge didn't matter. Engagements were broken all the time, hearts could change, lovers met others better suited._ Like Cecily and I._ "But- we got on so well. And you- you seemed to prefer my company above anyone's. I thought-"

"I preferred you because you- well, you're _you_. You're not the type a future husband need fear. You're- gentle, William. You're very kind." Her voice softened slightly. Then as he began to feel the pain in his chest loosen slightly, she crushed him. "You're also nothing to me. Nothing at all. I understand that and so does everyone else here. I'm sorry you're the only one who didn't realize it before- before you made a fool of yourself, and me as well. Now, if you'll excuse me. I think I'll return home early tonight. And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather we not attend the same functions for the rest of my stay in London. That shouldn't pose a problem for _you_." She rose, not quite looking at him, and pushed past him as he sat there, stunned, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

Trapped by his own damned sensitive, over-romantic, over-devoted, overeager nature. He fled the party without his overcoat, barely able to keep hot, angry tears in check until he was out on the street. He pushed past men and women alike, no thought for manners in his misery.

It wasn't my doing, he wanted to believe, and he angrily comforted himself. _It was- was them, the bullies of London society, you hale and hearty types, no thought for finer things. Tormenting me. Always keeping me … keeping me bound. Twisting the knife, letting me get close to love and then tearing me from it_. He tore up his crumpled papers, hands smudged with ink and wet with sweat. He was shaking, a sick feeling overwhelming him.

Heartbreak.

_They humiliated me. Ruined it. Ruined everything. It would have been different if the words were right, if I had told her, read to her on bended knee, like I planned. _

_ No. _

_She didn't love me. Never did. _I _loved her. _

_ This wasn't how it was meant to be. Was before. _

Mind in a tortured maze, he ran full into someone, and didn't even look up. "Watch where you're going!" He choked out angrily, and continued to flee blindly, not caring where he ended up.

* * *

_First Death_

She found him sitting on a bale of hay in a nameless alley, finishing the job of destroying his poetry, all his fury taken out on shredding his foolish hopes as they were written.

William looked up, startled, when he heard a feminine voice addressing him.

And what sort of woman was this? Standing in the depths of of the city, alone at night, and yet blissfully calm, serene, like the vision of an angel- if angels smirked.

"And I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?" She asked in a lilting voice, her wide eyes half closed, head tilted.

Heartbreak won out over curiosity. Even awareness. "Nothing. I wish to be alone." He turned his head halfway into his shoulder, focusing on the dank black stone wall beside him.

She shook her head, advancing. "Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory." He dared to look up, dared even to rise, as if her voice could physically pull him from the mire of his thoughts. Such pained thoughts. She continued, reaching for his temple, "That and burning baby fish swimming all around your head."

William suddenly stepped back, the curious look turning wary. "That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you."

As if that was what she wanted. A Cheshire smile burgeoned on her pale face. "Don't need a purse." She gestured to his heart, then his head. "Your wealth lies here... and here. In the spirit and- imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine."

He no longer backed away. In fact, he let her corner him, fingertips just missing the curl at his forehead as she pointed to the place where he felt most alive. Not this world. This mortal world, where he was trapped and spun around again and again, searching for something he hadn't found, knowing something was missing, and… this woman suddenly made him feel like she might have it. Like he wasn't a fool after all.

"Oh, yes." He breathed out. Her hand made contact, slender, white lace covered fingertips just grazing his cheek. He jumped. Electricity in her touch. Danger in her touch- and he was so willing to take the risk.

Something rang inside him, a deep bell tolling that he literally heard, a warning sound, a welcoming sound? He'd heard it once before… He drew back with a shuddered gasp. "I mean, no. I mean- mother's expecting me, and I…" William never finished the sentence.

Slender fingers were stronger than his. They deftly gripped the fabric at his throat and tore it asunder in one easy motion. She shook her head soothingly at him, pulling him closer as her words cast a spell. "I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something... effulgent."

_Effulgent. She knows. _

_ She knows me. _And there was indeed a part of himself inside her. Though she was lost in madness and he in grief, they both seemed to realize their common bond.

He didn't bother to ask how she had such intimate knowledge of him. He simply nodded, welcomed it. "Effulgent," he half-mouthed, half-whispered.

"Do you want it?" Her invitation was obvious and yet subtle at the same time. She had not said anything coarse or vulgar, no common whore selling her goods.

Offering. Offering much more than the mere physical. Her hand slid to his bare skin, throat, and just slightly under his collar, to the thin but well muscled upper chest.

He throbbed. Apparently she was offering the physical as well.

Animal instinct and the poet's instinct all combined to make him hoarsely reply, "Oh, yes." And as if he had experience, as if this virgin had once made love, he moved to her, hands mirroring hers skillfully, tracing his way to her heart, then gripping the soft bust at it. "Oh God, _yes_."

Drusilla looked down for a moment.

William was tempted to release her, step back. He was acting differently than he'd ever acted with a woman.

She is like no other woman, he realized as she turned that lovely, ethereal face to him again, and he watched it change. Become demonic. Luminescent eyes, a tiger's eyes, a tiger's fangs.

He let go slowly, not afraid. Confused. _Why aren't I afraid? This cannot be right. _

It _felt _right. Painful, but right. Her fangs buried swiftly, seamlessly into his throat, and he winced. Then shouted, a pained cry as she suckled and life began to leave him in torrents of red, disappearing hungrily down her lily throat.

The startled cries turned to moans, fainter, but pleasurable.

Yes… It was coming back to him. Love burned. It hurt. Every night, every day, it hurt. Every night, every day, there was death. For her. For love.

He fell back to the bales of straw, blackness shrouding him. He died for love. Willingly, gladly. So that she might live. She died, yet she lived. They were a circle. He'd never meant to break the circle, only the chains.

"Love…?" He asked faintly, breathing his last.

"Right here, my sweet." A cool breast, a squick swipe with a talon-like nail, and she kept the circle alive, even as he died.

William felt the blood pooling in his slack mouth, and found the strength to swallow before he let the darkness take him, as it had so many times before.

* * *

There was moment, only a fleeting second, where mortal form, human-like soul, and immortal essence shared the vessel together for the first time in time immeasurable.

Moon felt whole- for that second. He knew something was wrong, knew he had just made an all too familiar sacrifice, with the wrong woman, wrong being. _No. No, I will not be trapped again! _His soul screamed as it left.

"It's one stop in a long, long journey." A voice whispered. "Don't worry. I promise the journey ends with the right one. Don't give up. Try to remember who you are. Try to remember everything, anything you can. Remember _her_. Look for her everywhere, you _will_ find her."

William's chest went still, and his heart, exhausted, ceased to beat.

* * *

"Prae… what have you done?" Cora hissed.

"Nothing!" Praes cradled the ball of insubstantial light in his hands, holding it tenderly like a fragile newly hatched bird.

"You_ spoke_ to him!"

"I only thought to him, it's not like he saw me, or knew I was really there. He was crossing realms. I do that. I didn't speak to him, as much as offer him hope. It's what I do." The youthful face seemed more mature, more confident. "It's my _purpose_." He reminded her.

She left that alone. "Yes, yes. But you can't hold onto that!" She pointed to the softly fluttering orb. "You know where souls go."

"His isn't fully human, nor is it fully immortal, not anymore. He's ripped apart, and he needs this piece back. I'm holding it for him." Praes insisted stubbornly.

"You can't hold onto that!"

"I can, and I will."

"How long do you intend to stand here, hands full, neglecting everything else?"

"Cora, are you suddenly aware of time?" He gave her a sadly saucy grin, a crooked grin with sadness in the young eyes. Young-looking, but having existed forever, out of time itself.

"I just don't want you to be more involved… it isn't going to be a pleasant thing, not all of it."

"I know. We see 'unpleasant' things all the time. We're not to be moved by them."

"But you _are_." She reached for his shoulder. "When he wakes- and he will, it will be very - different. He'll remember love, passion, willingness to die and the familiarity with pain, just like he realized he knew at the end of his mortal time. But the innocence, the goodness and purity- it is _gone_. He has the beast that part of him formed, now back inside the shell. The soul is cast back into waiting, as you see, and until it's reclaimed, human decades later, it will be, like I said, terribly unpleasant to see."

"So be it. I made them a promise. _You_ made them a promise. I have to watch this unfold, Cora. I can't do much, but I can do this." He clutched the glowing piece of soul tightly. "He'll need this back."

"Once one of Bartimaeus' creatures takes over, it's extremely hard to confine a soul inside a mortal body again."

"You prophesied it."

"I know what I did." She sometimes wished she had not. "I'm only saying, warning- it will not be easy. He will still win back his soul, even if you do not watch over it. It's ordained, and must happen. Spare yourself from watching the proceedings. They're painful."

"And you don't want me to see their pain- because I feel it." He murmured, stubbornly refusing to let go.

"Yes!" She cried desperately.

"That means you feel mine. You care. You're not supposed to, but you do." He smiled. _Cora, she who gives all things their spark, who gives the ability to love and claims none of it for herself- she does care. My mother loves me._

"Oh… you are a stubborn, willful being!" She said in exasperation. Then smiled, that same half sad-half happy grin she'd been given earlier. "But you're right. I do." Cora sighed and took hold of his elbow, careful not to disturb his precious cargo. "Come along."

"Where are you taking me?"

"You need to watch over Sun as well, don't you? She's very different from Moon- but I don't think her story is actually any less traumatic."

"You don't have to come." He paused, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid I do." She stroked back his hair. "The way you watch over them, is how I feel about watching over you."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: Some of Season Five's dialogue is used in this chapter. Sorry for the long delay, but hope it will seem worth the wait. _

_Author's Second Note: I hope everyone will be understanding of the sections I've taken with other Slayers. They add to the tale of course, but I know you're anxiously waiting for "Buffy" to arrive._

_Author's Third Note: Timeless is up for Best AU, Best Drama-Spuffy, Best Original Character (Praes), Best Plot -Spuffy, Best Drama- Spuffy, and Best Unfinished Piece at the Round 31 of the Sunnydale Memorial Awards. Voting is open! Union (if you're following that piece as well, is also up for a bunch of things.)_

_Dedicated to Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, stuff'n'nonsense, ValidescopeWest, Lou, __sbyamibakura__, Illusera, madcloisfan, and rpfan1976. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** V**

_Sun_

_Essence_

The immortal essence, the "not quite human part", the part they would call "Chosen", that piece traveled down from the ancient first. The human "soul" was waiting for the right mortal form, a form that wouldn't be conceived until about a century later than her beloved counterpart.

* * *

"You're fretting." Cora spoke in an undertone.

"I see where Vita has her. Has the 'human' soul that will fit into the mortal form." Praes looked at the see of light, star-like blobs, bobbing in a river of nothing until they were called. Bright orbs shot out in all directions, endlessly, into all time and space, apparently without reason. Unless you were a Power.

"And?"

"I can't be sure, of course, but Moon found his mortal form and his demonic essence joined about one hundred mortal Earth years before Sun is even an infant. How are -"

"You're surely not about to question how they can possibly meet? Dear, you've been watching their pieces fly across all conception of time and space, centuries, continents, even mortal and mystical forms. A paltry hundred years is nothing."

"Over even before I blink, if I wish it." He looked at her steadily. "But I don't. I'm watching with them. Over them. One painful day at a time, knowing what they don't know. Waiting when they don't even know they are."

"Ah, my martyr." She grinned sadly. "And the others you're watching over?"

"I'm supposed to just watch. Never to interact. And I'm a lord of realms and times. I'll go back, go forward, go wherever. Only… it's as if these two impact every other soul."

Cora's hand, which had been reaching for him, froze. "They do, of course. The first of the 'night creatures', the first protector of humanity. Slayers are warriors of light, many times have they saved their people, even their world, from annihilation at the hands of Bartimaeus' children."

"So, well worth watching." He gave her a weak smile before his anxious eyes turned back to the flying lights. "It's a long time between forms."

"Then you'd best be grateful Moon is what he is. Without being 'turned' as they call it, he would never have lived until he meets her again."

"Hmm. Being dead, saves his life?"

"Saves his love, anyway. Well, after he kills her a few times."

"What?" Praes yelped. "I mean, yes I saw in the beginning, the first Slayer and the first vampire, but-"

"Slayers and vampires, Prae. They run afoul of each other. Have from the first unto the last, and in their case, a few times bits of them met in between." Her son of sorts looked miserable, even though this had been explained multiple times, and he was able to leap past any moment he chose, or to any future he wanted. "I thought that was why you did this."

"Hm?" He was confused.

"They killed one another every changing of the light, for one kiss."

"I did this to _stop_ the cycle, not so they could endure it less often."

"You should know that they do a few times until all their pieces are in place. And then- never again. Blissfully happy, never to harm the other again, and to live the sort of life you would give them. A hopeful one."

He clutched the ball he was holding tightly as it seemed to try to flutter away. William's soul- his mortal one, saved until it was reclaimed. "Shh, shh little one. Your soulmate is out there. You'll see her soon."

* * *

_Sun_

_Deaths_

They never recognized each other- the puzzle wasn't fully formed, and therefore hard to see. They recognized something for a moment, and then it was gone. Maybe if they'd had more time, more talking, they would have known who they were looking at, or begun to recall just who they truly were.

* * *

_China_

Spike, as he was now appropriately nicknamed, stalked her. The young thing, wicked fast thing, mockery of her calling, the helpless child-woman. His protective urges, strong in life, stronger still in the unlife, now that he had power to enforce them, didn't extend to this one. They were solely reserved for his Dru. And his Dru needed him to be stronger, much stronger. He seethed. Get the blood of the Slayer. Drink her down, and share himself with his beloved, his mate… so she'd be his mate only.

Painful memories stung his mind, his body, seemed to suddenly sting his eyes, though that could be the sweat from his normally cold skin beginning to trickle as the town burned around him.

Angelus- blood of his own, sire of his sire- had no right to belittle and undercut him as he did. Yet he did it as often as possible. Taking the woman he loved- sexually, emotionally, right in front of him. Angelus had only to purr, "Drusilla, you fine little thing, come keep me warm," in his lilting Irish tones, and she giggled and ran to the being who turned her, allowing herself to be caressed- far too intimately, right in front of William's enraged, jealous eyes.

Sexually, he was more discreet after the first time he'd proven that vampires can have whatever they want, but _own _nothing. The fight had clearly surprised the elder vampire. William had wanted to take Drusilla and leave, yet they never left. They traveled in a pack. A discordant pack that he somehow felt he had a true place in. Made sense, he imagined, as all shared the same bloodline now, the same demonic substance running through them where souls should be.

_That should be all we bloody share._ He prepared for the fight of legends, letting the anger of Angelus' actions fuel him. Focusing on visions of his grandsire taking Dru, first right before his eyes, an evil shock meant to humble him. Not just the once, no, a half dozen times since, more subtle, a joke, a taunt, something along the lines of, "Seen Drusilla anywhere, Will? Oh. I have. Check the basement." And he would hurry, innocently eager the first few times, in search of his beloved, to whatever room in whatever house they where were hiding away- and see her writhing on top of some still human toy Angelus was keeping around, or some newly turned fledge who'd earned a reward, or worse, some local vampire Drusilla just got flushed for and wanted to "play" with. She never asked his permission. She asked Angelus', and he always gave a dark chuckle before he granted it.

His rage clouded his mind, but it made him a ruthless pursuer. He did this not only for glory and to prove he was the better vampire for Drusilla, he did this to keep her safe. He didn't trust Angelus. Demons aren't supposed to trust anyone, even their sires, Dru had hurtfully proven that.

Yet in his heart he believed this was what it would take. This gesture would prove himself, and protect his paramour. She would be his Sire, but he would be her Knight. This act was risky, but he knew that love was worth any risk, even death._ I died for love before. Died to get free._ Would kill to get her free, too. He felt like Drusilla was bound to Angelus, the way he himself was to her, but without the love, without the trust. Angelus could treat her just as badly as any human he hunted, and sometimes did. _ Prisoner. Needs to be freed. _

Strangely he thought of the Slayer he was stalking in almost the same way.

_Don't you worry, little girl. Spike will set you free…_

* * *

They have something in common, all the Slayers. They're all young women, most would still say girls. They matured quickly, so that inside they were quite "elderly" by the time they died in a year or so of being called. Unless they didn't even make it that long. "Can't we change that?" Praes had no need to breathe, yet at the sight of the two of them preparing to face off, he was nearly hyperventilating.

"No. We can't." No sympathetic tone from Cora, the voice behind him was an angrily imperious one, belonging to the being he thought of as his father.

"Crono." He half-gasped and turned.

"You caused this. You have no call to question the form I gave her, your precious freed Sun."

"They're barely grown. This one…"

"Is still a child? She is of child-bearing age. In her culture, that makes her a woman. And you pleaded for a form compatible with your blasted Moon, did you not? A male seeking a female?"

"Yes, but-"

"You allowed a darkness to be created. I allowed a light to fight it. What is the enemy of darkness? Light. The opposite of evil, good, the opposite of depravity, innocence. They are still young enough to be scared, to know that there is true evil, still innocent enough to believe they can win. They still have _hope_." The tone was mildly bitter.

"You're infinitely powerful. You could have waited a year or two more and still had those same things in their nature." Praes dared to speak against the patriarch.

"Some will be a bit older. None too old. Then they wouldn't truly be like her." Crono's voice was now tired, something exceedingly rare.

Praes frowned. "Why?"

"They have to have a part of themselves that _hates_ it. Part that knows they do good, something no other can do. And yet still loathe it. You might've broken their chains from the heavenly bodies, _boy_, but you never thought about how to remove the ones you can't see." Crono was gone with those ominous words before Praes could even open his mouth.

He didn't let that stop him. "You're wrong, _old man_. You never realized their chains fall off when they feel like they're really free. When they can be together. The chains are still on now, but they're going to break. Someday soon…"

* * *

The current Slayer did indeed hate this. Only a year ago she'd been tending fields with her sisters, playing games by the fire when the work was done, helping her mother cook and whispering about which boy would soon be the man the matchmaker would partner her with.

It ended abruptly. _Something _came into her, subtly at first, and then with a radiant burning intensity that could not be ignored or controlled. A man came after it, a foreigner who barely spoke her language, and took her from her village miles away to the city. Her parents were glad to let her go. Ever since she'd killed the yaoguai that was maiming their cattle, her parents were afraid of her. She was afraid of herself- she'd killed it while still being terrified, but easily, with her father's pitchfork, suddenly having the strength of many men to just stab the thing clear through. Word of it spread. Girls in the village wouldn't speak to her. Boys stopped looking at her. The matchmaker hid behind her fan if they passed on the road.

_I will never be a woman. I will no longer be a child. I am stuck in this void, nightly it deepens, never growing, unchanging. I am no longer a person. I am a weapon. _

She had traded dolls and tools for swords. She had become her blade. Cold, lifeless, and made to kill. The man who she called Watcher said in time it would not be such a hardship, she would see her great good works shining out, though she must ever remain unthanked for performing them. Frustration mounted as night after night she must hunt and kill, weary of endless battle and pain while life was robbed of joys. Her rays of light, shine though they might, were not appreciated. Those around her, those whom she silently saved, took it for granted that they still were in possession of their lives, most unaware or unbelieving of the threats surrounding them.

_ They get their lives. I have none. _So young, but so tired. Innocent, yet the burning inside her hinted there was something worth living for, reminded her of things she'd never experienced. She fought off the puzzled half-memories that were not hers. She had to fight new monsters soon, jiangshi, her Watcher said. They were not common in her world, they must have come with the traders and missionaries to the city. She felt sick with the thought of facing yet another hideous creature, and oddly enough- not as scared as she should be. Simply weary. Battle must happen. Beast must die, or she must die, and then the cycle would begin again with the next monster- or the next Slayer.

* * *

He was not ugly. He was white skinned, but a man in feature. A handsome man, until his demon face appeared, but she was not repulsed as she should have been.

_Must take his head. Steel does not kill their kind unless it takes the head. _

Spike thought she was more like a dancer than a warrior. Her sword play was magnificent, graceful, lethal. Her body was too, as she whirled and kicked, a choreography in her motions that must mean it was some formal system of fighting. He mimicked her moves and his own demonic agility upped the performances. _So long since we danced._ He smiled at her, and she faltered. The blade didn't cut his neck, dashed above his eye and spilled a scarlet stream. He roared, gleefully. _Yes! The pain, the dance, her touch-_

_Gotta get this blood in me, take it to share with Dru_. He could smell the sweet, pulsating fragrance of Slayer blood. It was for Dru. Yet- he couldn't resist a little flirtation, a little banter._ It hurts, but we're used to it, and it still feels so good_. He wasn't even fully aware of these thoughts, just heard the words coming out of his smirking mouth as they battled.

"Just like I pictured it. This good for you?"

She didn't know the words, but she knew the tone. Something hot fluttered to the surface of her being- and she had to focus, kill him._ Like I've always done. His life or my life, never breaking the chain…_

She charged, he ducked, and he backhanded her across the face, knocking her almost to her knees, but she caught herself- though she lost the grip on the sword.

_I like this better._ Her touches burned him as they now fought hand to hand. Revved him up, brought the fire in him to full force, and yet it also seemed to weaken him, distract him. He found himself letting her make more and more contact, until he was pinned against one of the columns in the temple they were using as their arena.

_Must take his head- or his heart._ She'd lost her sword, but her Watcher had taught her that wood through the heart worked. She held the stake steady as she retrieved it from her pocket, and then-

The burning city invaded. Not fire itself, but another one of the explosions responsible for the flames engulfing the streets that night. The building shook, she trembled, fatigue and the quaking ground combining to defeat her. The beast lunged and took advantage of the weakness, knocking the stake from her grip. She dove to retrieve it.

And he dove to retrieve her.

She knew it was over when her arm went behind her back, locked in his fist, and she felt his body against hers. Completely against hers. So hot that night, and he was so cold in comparison. She'd frozen for him before, her body seemed to whisper, and she shuddered when the coldness descended further into her, two sharp wounds in her neck.

_It hurts. But it always has hurt. As I give him my life. _She gasped in pain, tried to find the will to fight him off, tried to clear her brain which was muddling everything and making no sense.

Oh God. Oh sweet, bloody heaven in his mouth. The fire in her. Consuming him, inside out, until he had to rip his fangs free to gasp or know he'd drown in scarlet flames going through him. _Hurts so good_. He licked his lips and turned her towards him, not really sure why.

_You need to tell him something._

He wasn't gentle, but he waited. Like he knew something was coming. The girl's eyes went glassy, and he pulled her a little closer still, the arm under her shoulders seeming oddly supportive.

"Tell my mother I'm sorry." A soft whisper of Mandarin. _No… No, I was supposed to say something else to him… It's too late now. Too dark. Too cold…_

"I'm sorry, Luv. I don't speak Chinese."

She didn't speak English.

_He wins this time._

* * *

He let her drop to the ground, and he followed her, finishing his meal. When he rose up, he licked his lips in pleasure and knew that soon Drusilla would be echoing his actions. Aphrodisiac indeed. And so much more, something indefinable, painful, pleasurable, familiar and new all at once- everything. _Slayers are everything you need to find._ And according to Darla, a new one was made when the old one died.

_I'll get another one. I'll get another chance._

"A fella could get used to this." He licked his lips slowly, hungrily, oddly reluctant to leave.

* * *

Maybe he would have been standing there still, had she not glided into the temple and found him standing over her. "Oh, Spike, look at the wonderful mess you've made. That's a Slayer you've done in. Naughty... wicked... Spike." Her airy voice somehow more breathless, thrilled sounding. Awed and even worshipful sounding. Reminding him of just why he'd been so eager to do this Slayer in.

_Gonna be king of my own castle- gonna keep my queen mine, all mine_. He gave her a gaze of burning lust and swooped her up. "You ever hear them saying the blood of a Slayer is a powerful aphrodisiac?"

A nod, sparkling dark hunger in her eyes. Not just hungry for the blood, hungry for me. Spike dragged one of the fingers that had so recently been round the girls throat up to Dru's perfect little lips. "Here, now... have a taste."

What her mouth could do to one finger, spoke worlds of what more she could do to him later. She finished dragging her tongue off of him with a moan of ecstasy, eyes finding his.

Here. Now. William might have blushed at the thought, but Spike clamored for it. He pushed her against the column, the same column the Slayer had held him to earlier, and kissed her passionately, sharing the taste. Her skirts went up over his knee, and her hands went down his shirt. With a debauched, hungry laugh, they fell to the floor.

* * *

He strolled through a burning city, arm in arm with his reclaimed forbidden fruit, his wicked ripe plum, barging boldly up to their sires who stood looking tense and ill at ease, as if they'd been interrupted in a spat.

"So where have you two been?" Darla asked in a clipped voice.

Drusilla practically purred the news, asking permission first. "May I tell?"

She hung on him. She asked him- not "Daddy Dearest". "No need to be humble." He purred back, a gloating grin on his face.

She cooed over him like a proud mother cat over her kitten. "My little Spike just killed himself a Slayer."

Spike watched Angelus' face. It didn't register anything. Carefully expressionless. Apparently something was expected of him though, as "alpha male", and he finally grudgingly said, "Congratulations. I guess that makes you one of us."

_ Makes me the_ best _of us. And a damn better leader. _He was magnanimous with his praise, high on blood and sex and a kill that felt hard won, yet all too easy and enjoyable. "Don't be so glum, mate! The way you tell it, one Slayer snuffs it, another one rises. I figure there's a new Chosen One getting all chosen as we speak. I tell you what... when and if this new bird does show up, I'll give you first crack at her."

Angelus never took him up on the offer.

* * *

_I don't understand this. He loved her so much. He relishes her death._ Praes frowned and stroked the orb of Moon's "human" soul, never out of his sight.

_It's all he has of her for now. Pieces aren't aligned, yet._ He could hear Cora's voice chiding though she was not truly present.

_But still? Does he need to enjoy it? It's a mockery. It's grim._

_ It gives him what he needs, boy_. Now Crono's bitter voice was playing along. _This is why I'm in charge, and you should never have meddled. Can't you see the battle plans being laid? He'll never survive long enough to meet her unless he's nearly equal to her. He'll never get the taste to go hunting them down, looking for her, to meet her at the appointed time, if he avoids Slayers. _

_But he's so… obsessed with them now._

_ She was the only other thing in his world for eons. Moon to Sun. Struggling through all day and night to glimpse each other, to burn each other out or swallow each other up, an endless ring of love and sacrifice. Of course he__'s obsessed, you fool. _

Praes shook his head to clear out all other voices. _I'm learning to think like they do. _He didn't know whether to be comforted to gain wisdom, or completely horrified that he was beginning to understand such painful, cruel logic.

_Try thinking for yourself. They're blind. They're wandering blindly in bodies and pieces, torn apart and torn in themselves. Any scrap of familiarity is a comfort, no matter how vicious._

_ At least, that seems to be how Moon feels towards his lost love. I don__'t think Sun is so eager._

* * *

They had trust issues, abandonment issues, all of them without exception. Maybe being Chosen did it, or maybe being that way led the Powers to Choose them.

"But they're not all the same, not at all. Not before they're Chosen." Praes mentioned to Cora during one period of observation. "Aside from the fact that they're female humans and they're of a certain age, they've been all races, all walks of life, all portions of the human realm. Rich, poor, thin, fat, young women when they were called to this life, only slightly older wen they died. "It must be the fact that her essence invades them."

"Sun acts as she acts, in whatever human, corporeal form her essence is funneled into. It'll peak when it enters into her new form, when it is reborn." Cora shrugged. "You know why she does as she does, better than we do." A simple smile, "You took the time to talk to her. Talk to both of them. You can't blame Crono for this- not directly."

He blamed himself. For trusting someone unscrupulous to free Moon, and then to break the one promise Moon had asked for- that he would get to see Sun first, to tell her what was happening, to say freedom was coming, with all its uncertainties. To say goodbye for now, not forever.

She left her celestial form angry and untrusting, aware that he was taken from her and not even the Powers themselves could give him back.

"How in all the worlds are two such angry individuals going to let their guard down long enough to see past their new bodies and look into old hearts?" Praes bemoaned.

"Well, you have to remember that you're only seeing one part of her so far. You see Moon's essence, you've seen the mortal called William, and now you've seen them joined. Give Sun a chance. She may pleasantly surprise you. You know, you could cast off this foolish notion of hovering over them and jump ahead to meet the girl herself, or even better, watch their final, happy reunion."

Praes looked at her for a long moment. "The things that you know will happen? Are you ever curious to see how they became so?"

Cora couldn't quite meet his eye. "Honestly, no. My purpose is not curiosity. I could remind you that yours is not either."

He turned from her. "Let's just leave it that hope is a curious thing." Praes whispered.

* * *

_Deaths_

Spike hunted many, fought few, killed two.

Praes had felt hope, part of his very nature, abandon him as he watched girl after girl die, usually before even reaching the age of eighteen. It wasn't so much the deaths, he was learning. For all creatures in the mortal realm die, some are considered young, some old. What mattered was that they didn't die alone, that they died loved. Humans prized that, the notion of being loved until the end. Sun would have prized that as well, for that was her ritualistic demise, one of loving sacrifice, ever repeated.

Until her essence had been shaped into this warrior of light. Until this part of her passed along, through centuries and regions of the world. Now she died alone, every time, and unloved as well.

Slayers cut themselves off. They lose their families. They lose lovers. They either pushed the love away, afraid for the vulnerability it created, or the love fled from them, afraid and feeling like the woman they loved was no longer there. In many ways, that was true. The woman, or he should say girl, in most cases, hollowed out, became a shell, a tool, close to no one, too busy hunting and protecting, too busy hiding the truth and avoiding others.

Hope had very little to cling to. Until Nikki Wood.

* * *

She was different. Not initially, no. A tough girl with an ax to grind, who grudgingly accepted her mission, and listened to her Watcher, heeding his advice about not getting attached and to keep her calling a secret. She pulled away from neighborhood friends and the extended family who'd raised her, turning darker and darker, more and more tired.

_And soon the light goes out._ Praes had seen the scenario literally hundreds of times now.

But Nikki changed that, unwittingly, unknowingly. She was a loner, but she wasn't always "alone". A night of passion here and there, that happened, had happened in many of the Slayers her watched. What had never happened was that one of those nights of passion resulted in a bond she could not break, and created a bond that her Watcher wouldn't dream of asking her to give up.

She was with child. Instantly things changed for Nikki, between her and her Watcher. She expected the older man, Crowley, to be enraged, to urge her to give the child up as soon as it was delivered, to tell her that he mission must continue in spite of this "unwanted" inconvenience.

She could not have been more surprised by his reaction. Concerned. Protective. He insisted she should not be given the trial on her 18th birthday, and when the Council ignored his pleas, he was frantic with worry, an emotion Nikki didn't even know he possessed.

She survived, the child survived, and she was loved by her son. She loved him back, unreservedly. Crowley acted as a father of sorts to the boy, and a true friend to her.

Hope blossomed.

Until Spike came to New York City.

* * *

"No! No, he can't take this one! She's a mother! She has a son, she's managed to find some of Sun's warmth, not just her fire, her anger." Praes watched it unfold, knowing that things happen for a purpose, and yet unable to see the purpose in this. He could take the next one. She'll die anyway, she doesn't have to go by his hand.

The other girls, when they passed, battling some demon or other, they were ready. They were tired, burnt out, sensing something familiar in a violent end. Nikki Wood had been tired- until that boy was born. Now she fought afresh, she had something to live for.

* * *

_Something worth fighting, this one_. Spike loved this one, more than any of the others he'd met, far more than the other he'd killed. That scared little Chinese dancer with her sword, was nothing compared to this fierce woman and her fists.

_I could dance with her all night. Every night. _

But those nights still belonged to Dru, though right now she wasn't "with him", having flitted off after being caught with her skirts up and her legs wrapped around some other charismatic vampire.

_This'll help me get her back. Help me keep her._ Spike ducked blows, and landed some, feeling a heat radiate from her and echo inside him.

_And in the meantime… I like this girl. _

"Well, all right. Got the moves, don't you? I'm gonna ride you hard before I put you away, luv." The double entendre came easily. And part of him, an silent part, meant it, heart bound and faithful to his sire though he was, and always had been. But Slayers…

She scoffed, swinging past him in the rain. "You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me. And I ain't your 'luv'." _Something different about this one. He doesn't want to kill blindly, like vamps do. He wants _me.

Well, he lost that chance, her subconscious prodded. _When he left._

_ Wait, what? Never fought this vamp before. Would have remembered someone like this. Would have remembered if-_ she felt herself falling , slamming into the pavement- _he'd been on top of me before._ He straddled her, could have ended it, but he didn't, just kept hitting.

_Like he's giving me the in. _She took it, kicking him off, kicking him again, sending him flailing back a few steps before he lunged.

He caught her, and she thought, for a split second, that she'd let him. Like it _was _only a dance. Like just another step, to feel him pressing into her back, feeling her neck bend instinctively, because she knew how they did it, how vampires killed.

_Oh, she wants it. Wants the dance. Doesn't want to let it end. _He growled, feeling her struggle, pulling her tighter. _Maybe I won't end it. I wonder what happens if you turn a Slayer? _

He stopped reflecting on that, a clattering of metal bins behind them making him let her go. _This is private! _

Nikki blinked, shuddered away, turned and head butted him with all her might. Needed to clear her own brain. Her mind had been lost, wandering away for that fateful second. She didn't even know how that was possible. Her baby was right there, hiding in the shadows. She went for Spike's chest with a stake clenched in her fist, ready to turn him to ash.

Spike caught the stake neatly between two palms, twisting it from her as it nearly passed into his chest. Another deft twist of his hands, and the stake went rolling across the dark wet pavement. He didn't go after her. He could have then, she was close enough to grab, to finish. Instead, he stepped back, hands up and apart, not surrender, more like a "time out".

"I spent a long time trying to track you down. Don't want the dance to end so soon, do you, _Nikki_?" The use of her name made her pale. He chuckled. "The music's just starting, isn't it?" He walked away, turning his back on her, somehow knowing she would not come after him. He swung around a lamp post to stare back at her himself, "By the way...love the coat."

Nikki stood in the rain, panting. He ended a fight with her prematurely, just so he'd have the chance to find her again. To "dance". The vamp knew her name. Knew she was a Slayer.

"Mama!" Her son came out of hiding, voice high and frightened.

_Does he know I have a son?_ "You did a good job, baby boy. You stayed down just like mama told you." She embraced him as he ran to her.

"Can we go home now?"

"Nuh-uh. It's not safe there anymore." _He knows my name. He can find my place. He can find my son._ "How 'bout I leave you over at Crowley's house, and you can play with those spooky doodads that you like?"

"No, I wanna stay with you." He pleaded.

Nikki looked back over her shoulder. A wave of tiredness crossed her. For the first time in four years, she felt that inescapable exhaustion return, the one she thought she'd managed to free herself from._ I'm not the hunter. I'm the hunted. That has to end. _

"Yeah, I know you want to stay with me, baby. But remember, Robin, what we talked about. Always got to work the mission." Her son looked away. "Look at me. You know I love you, but I got a job to do. The mission is what matters…right?" _That shouldn't be true, should it?_ But her son was nodding, the lesson had been drilled into him. Drilled into her first, and she'd passed it on. Teaching her son to live this life. The weariness pushed on her harder. She managed a tired, proud smile. "That's my boy. Come on."

She walked her son to the Watcher's flat, constantly, subtly checking over her shoulder. She was used to that. What she was not used to was feeling like there was someone specific following her, maybe. Watching her, maybe. A specific vampire, and what's more, specifically looking for _her_, personally. She had been cornered before, random vamp, random demon, all of it just part of the job. Evil hunts what they think will be an easy meal- young women were often favorite targets. And in reverse, she hunted evil, no particular evil, just whatever Crowley said was a threat that week, whatever she stumbled across, sensed.

_Not this time. He knows me. Wants me. I'm looking for him. I'm waiting for him. _

_ And it__'ll never stop._ Somehow she knew that. That this one would continue to hunt her, and even if he didn't for some reason, say he just stopped- she wouldn't rest. Knowing he was out there, knowing too much about her- making her feel something out of place, a feeling she didn't get while Slaying.

Like he saw too much, knew too much ,without knowing her at all. And most importantly- say he moved from her, and switched his attentions to Robin? She squeezed her son's shoulder tightly.

_ If I don__'t kill this one, it'll ruin my life. If he kills me, it'll end my life._

_ At least there__'s an end that way…_

* * *

He found her. They danced. She was fighting him hard at first, deserted subway cars as their ballroom. And it was quite the dance, a mountain of moves, a minimum of contact. _Mmhmm. That's how it goes. There's no touching until the death…_

Black leather was swishing around her, part armor, part gown, the compliment to the tight ripped jeans, and sleeveless, torn shirt he wore.

"How did you find me? Why?" She snarled at one point.

"Slayers. You're the best. You're it for me, Luv." He rasped back.

It jarred her to hear him say it so fearlessly, like he savored the word. "What's a messed up vamp like you know about Slayers?"

"Didn't do your homework, did you?" He laughed. "You're not the first one I've killed. You won't be last one I face." _This circle just keeps going, never find the end, the wheel in the sky keeps on turning._ "We are the perfect circle." He purred to her. "Death and dying, living again, reborn."

"You on acid?" The words unsettled her. He always unsettled her. Two times was hardly always, yet the thought refused to leave.

"You know the truth. We both kill. And when I end someone, I can turn 'em, give 'em new life. And when you punch out, Luv, your soul must go on, but somethin' in you passes to the next. Only one of you in all the world, and when you die, you just pass the torch."

_So it never really ends. Only my piece of the journey ends. Then the next girl picks up the damned burden. Want it to stop. _

_ Want me to stop. Don__'t want the never ending mission. The mission keeps going, I just don't keep going with the mission. I want my boy to grow up nice and normal and happy, and not know that there_ is_ this mission… Too late._

Their hands brushed as blows traded, and she was losing speed, losing ground now. _When he touches me, it's always almost too late._ There was the term "always" again.

"You live- just to burn up, burn out." He was under her now, but he'd let it happen. He didn't want to end it, but he would have to, he always had to.

"I live to kill things like you." She spat at him as she pummeled him, straddling him as she rained blows down on his face and chest.

"But a little part of you wonders- what it's like on the other side. No, not evil, Luv, I know you're nothing but good." His voice was soft and supple as they passed through a black tunnel, and she temporarily lost her ability to see, to hit with her former precision and force. Now he grabbed her hands as they landed, a deft turn, and he was on top. He let go of her hands, put his own on her throat, feeling the hot rushing blood under her skin. Burning him. He swallowed a moan. "You wonder about the look of peace you see on them. The hundreds you kill, and there's always a hundred more some place else. Knowing your number is up some night, won't matter who, some demon or vamp who got lucky, had himself one good day when he was better than your best. You know you want to feel what they feel when it's over. When you're free."

The last words were a tiny whisper in the blackness. Two figures who had borne eons of chains didn't realize they were close to breaking them. It was all just desperation now.

The lights came back on, and she put her hands on his elbows, gripping him hard, trying to force him off. Reminded him of how Dru dug in her hands, nails deep in his forearms when he was on top of her that night in China… Now there was no one to share the rush with.

Except her. He looked down, into wide, furious eyes. _We could just dance, you and I…_ He hesitated. He was letting her have the time advantage, push him off, she could have done it if she wanted to.

Her fingers tensed, looking into his eyes as his cold, perfect features stared down at hers, nothing overtly evil in them. Just a waiting. Coldness and waiting. Win tonight, and it would still mean she was waiting. Just waiting until one vamp had a good day.

Her fingers relaxed, and her eyes didn't shy away. They just lost the heat.

_And she burns out for me again._ "The second you want it, Baby-" a husky promise, fear and tiredness meeting intense blue eyes, "I'll slip in and give it to you. That look of peace."

She moved under him, but she wasn't moving away. It was like a struggle. A struggle within herself._ Not ready, have to keep fighting, so ready, so tired, needs to stop, please make it stop…_

A twist, a crack, a cry. His hands, her neck, his voice.

He felt strangely bereft. Satisfied and wanting all at once. He bent down, fangs to still warm neck, and had a long drink. Still not enough.

That was why he took the coat. He wrapped it around himself as he pulled the emergency brake. Could still feel her warmth around him like this. He bent to close her eyes, lingered until he heard the heavy running footsteps coming to investigate the brake pull. Then he was gone, a swish of black that was out the door and up on the speeding train's roof before they even entered their compartment.

* * *

"Each time it's clearer. For both of them." Praes took some small solace in that.

"And the third time is the charm, little one." Cora soothed.

"They see something familiar."

"And this next rotation, that is, the next time Moon meets a Slayer, both will be as restored as they can be. Sun's reborn mortal form will finally bear the Chosen element. Her soul will be there. His human soul will not be, but by the time they've spent a few months together, that won't seem terribly relevant."

"But- the Slayers he meets- they see each other for the battle, and that's all. Months of battle?"

"Battle of sorts." Cora shrugged. "This next time Sun and Moon meet, it's all very different."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: Some of Season Five's dialogue is used in this chapter. Sorry for the long delay, but hope it will seem worth the wait. _

_Author's Second Note: I created my own characterization and handling of Merrick (Buffy's first Watcher) and his history here, while trying to keep the essential facts the same. If it sounds different than canon, well, it is, but so is a lot of this story . _

_Dedicated to Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, stuff'n'nonsense, Illusera, madcloisfan, rpfan1976, kittyfajitas, Rihannon, and Valerie21601. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** VI**

_Sun_

_Essence_

The soul was torn, like Moon's. His was demon and "human", the demon passing through his line of blood-made children, and the mortal part waiting to be born into a the form fate chose for it. When al three would meet again, Moon would be ready to meet his beloved, fully.

Even now, demon and reborn form, minus human soul, unknowingly sought whatever part remained in his realm. Her soul had split, so long ago, the essence of a warrior of light not passing through blood, but by will of Powers. Her "human" soul, just waiting for its mortal body, until…

* * *

_Rebirth_

It was a gorgeous, blazing morning that felt like July, not January. The birth of a new year, the first month in one sun's rotation, when she came. A glowing orb called a soul, slipping from heaven into the body of a girl who would have the brightest, sparkling smile and laughing, grass-green eyes. She would be her parents' sunshine, oddly enough, until they felt her go into some darkness, unknowing that it was only her true Light coming home. A girl who would be Chosen herself, in fifteen years time.

"All Sun's pieces are in play. And enough of Moon's to bring them together." Praes felt as if he'd been standing on tiptoe for a century and a half. He might've been, Powers aren't always aware of their positions, their corporeal forms being unlike anything else in the universe. All he knew was- he was exhausted, merely from watching. "She's beautiful. For a human."

"You think all babies are beautiful, Prae. You see what they could be, not the squished up, helpless beings they are. That's why Vita hates to teach you." Cora chuckled.

"Well, you give them the spark that makes them so captivating." Praes ignored the gentle scolding. "Truly though, look at her. Already, she can't keep her eyes closed. All babies are tired when they arrive, they've gone through such an exhausting journey, the mothers as well. This one… she looks around at everything, she cries when they bind her…"

"Swaddling. The humans call it swaddling."

"Do you think she knows who she is? Truly is?"

"No more than Moon did. They'll have telltale traits. In time. Hm. This bright eyed child may well be aware that this planet she's now living on used to be the one she watched over during the day. Maybe she's trying to figure out where she's seen it all before." Cora said this mainly to humor him.

Praes knew it. "Ohh, listen, listen. They're about to name the Sun Warrior."

Cora shook her head indulgently. "Ive known her name for eons, would you like me to-"

"Buffy. Our little Buffy." Her mother cooed to the nurse, the father laughed, and the nurse signed the birth certificate.

Praes sat down. More like collapsed.

"What?" Cora stared at him in confusion.

"Buffy? They named the Chosen warrior who will literally be the embodiment of the mighty and searing Sun, _Buffy_?"

"What's wrong with that? It's not more or less human than 'William', the name of the mighty and freezing, night-ruling Moon."

"In the human language his parents spoke, William means mighty warrior, protector. It suits him. Even as he is now, he protects and fights with his whole being. Buffy- I think it's short for something else, a bit of another human name. Buffy in and of itself means nothing that I know of. And I'm infinitely knowledgeable, Cora! If I- wanted to be, that is…"

She glided off, her job of hand-holding done for now. "Then she needs no given meaning, Praes. She will make one of her own."

* * *

_Growth_

She grew up sandy blonde and tan, ripening in the empty sun she once pulled through the sky. Even her last name, fittingly enough, was Summers, the place she lived was one of endless summer, unmistakably worshipping the season in which the Sun ruled. She captured her warmth- a quick love of her family, a glowing charm and pretty face that made her popular. People were drawn to her, just like the flowers had once raised their heads at Sun's passing above, and all nature basked in her light. A sweet and normal girl. She loved pretty things, loud laughter, and bright lights. The same thing Sun found enjoyable in her daily torment, the only things that made her existence bearable between glimpses of her lover.

* * *

There is a dark side of the moon, humans say. They didn't know there was a dark to the sun, for they go around it, not it around them. In the Sun's reincarnation, there was no such luxury. The dark side simply took a long time to become visible. And it all started one night when the pretty, suntanned half-woman was "Chosen."

* * *

_Maturing_

One day she was a child- though she'd glare at you and sulk if you dared to say that about her- when she was _fifteen_! Fifteen was an adult, excuse you very much.

Then she really _was_ a woman, not in the sense that she'd come of child bearing age or legal age, or filled out in a feminine form. Womanhood for a Chosen one meant that the childish comforts of innocence and trust were dashed. You woke up to true horrors and you were forced to deal with them alone at first, losing everything you'd ever gained in family or friends as you moved into a different world- and they were not part of it even if standing right beside you.

* * *

They didn't believe her. Her parents, her very own parents put her in this dreadful place. A terrible place, where they literally chained her, though not with literal chains, to a bed in a lonely white room. The doctors told her that she could have no contact with loved ones until she was "stabilized"for forty eight hours.

If she hadn't recently been imbued with a supernatural strength, this might have broken her.

_ Sun hates the dark. Hates the chains that keep her bound in a course she does not want to travel, hate the "rules" that keep her away from the only one she truly trusts or loves. Hates above all that people were blind and heartless to her plight. _

Buffy knew this, instantly, the moment the snapped the padded cuff shut on her wrist. "I'm telling you, I saw them! I did see a monster, I saw… I know they're real." Her frantic pleas were ignored by politely trained psych unit staff.

The violence came back with the Essence's memories, ones Buffy wasn't privy to, yet carried around inside of her.

_I've battled in the dark forever. I can't trust anyone. They left me- no, he left me. Alone, and the night was so empty without him. I know there are lies, and demons tell them._

_ Took him before his time, if what __…. if what someone told me once upon a time was true. _

The desire to burn. The knowledge she had that power, not full of the element of fire, but fire in her. _I will take back the night and if I ever find - the one I trust- again… I'll give that night back to him._

* * *

"She doesn't make sense. This ranting! No one's ever left her." A tearful mother explained to the doctors. "Well, she had a cousin, her best friend, my niece Celia,- she died when Buffy was eight- or was it nine? But aside from hating hospitals, she never seemed to… this doesn't seem related."

"It's probably not related to that unfortunate incident. What you're witnessing is most likely a combination of the tranquilizers and whatever delusions she's experiencing, Mrs. Summers."

"But -she's mumbling about someone- some 'he'. Leaving her. All the men in her life are perfectly trustworthy, her father's really the only male relative she sees more than once a year. Unless there's a boy somewhere. Hank?"

The doctor thought he saw Mr. Summers' eyes flicker uncomfortably. "There's always a boy someplace."

"It's just a representation of what's in her mind. She doesn't have an actual 'person' in mind- that is to say,_ outside _of her mind. Once she's off the tranquilizers, we'll ask and see if she was even aware of what she was saying."

* * *

No one had talked to her, only stared up at her. Well, one had spoken to her, had been her sole conversation partner, life partner, death partner. Then there had been one other who finally dared to speak to her, right before, and right after she lost her beloved. The resentment was part of her now. Now her most recent incarnation chose not to talk to them.

"I just want to go home. I guess I- had nightmares. That seemed real." She lied in a hollow voice.

They let her go. Her parents kept watching her. Wanted her to go into therapy. Speak to guidance counselors.

_What the heck am I supposed to say? I see real monsters, and I'm awake? I lied to get out of a loony bin, put me back again?_

_ Never. Never, ever. _

Two therapy sessions. She tried to act like she'd been before she started being able to "see". The world was a lovely, sunny place, and she was queen of the high school. The biggest worries were making sure the shoes on her feet were up to date according to the fashion police. There was nothing in the dark.

_Maybe if you pretend it's true, you can make it true._

* * *

A man came to her. A man who refused to let her lie anymore, who completely sealed off childhood and took her beyond womanhood into warriorhood.

Merrick, sent to Watch her, to help her, to train her to take on those night creatures that were haunting her dreams and in waking moments lingering in the corners of her vision. "You believe me." Buffy still had trouble believing _that._

"You're not the first, Buffy Summers. You've been Chosen, after hundreds before you have also been Chosen."

"Hundreds before me? _Hundreds_?" _And what's with the implied capitals? I can _hear _"Chosen" with a capital C. What did they choose me for, just to see scary things? _

"Thousands, even." He smiled kindly.

"Why so many? Where do I find these other thousands of girls, because all the people around here are starting to treat me like a freak. It's ruining my life. My _normal _life." _Tell me it can go back to normal. Without my parents looking at me like I'm nuts, without my old crowd starting to ditch me because they heard about my three day stay in Crazy-ville._

The pause of the plain-speaking man told her more than words could ever convey.

"They died? _All _of them?" She screeched.

"There is only one Chosen at a time. You are the Chosen One."

"Oh my _God_! What are they choosing me_ for_? Is this like a sacrifice?" _Stupid virginity. _

"Far from it."

Buffy stood frozen as he opened his long navy blue trench coat and she felt like she should look away because- well- this was the bad part of talking to strange men and she shouldn't have agreed to talk to Mr. Merrick after school yesterday, or meet him after school again today. "Sto-" Her cry died away.

"You are Chosen not to be slain, but to slay. You are the Slayer. The one girl in all the world who can face the demons, the vampires, the one who can stand against them. You are stronger than they are, and you've been Chosen to fight them."

After the moment of utter silence, the moment where her brain processed that what Mr. Merrick had taken out of his coat was a long, wooden tent-peg thingy, she just laughed. Full on hysterical, "boy, you must be crazier than I am" laughed. Wiping her eyes she finally gasped out, "Me? Why did you guys pick _me_? I can't even pull hair, I'm not going to attack anyone with that piece of wood!"

"We don't pick you. The Powers that Be, they choose you. They don't make mistakes. Only one girl in all the world is-"

"Wait, wait. If I'm stronger than these things, if I can be the one to fight them, and I'm the last one in like, a line of a ten thousand or something- why are all the other girls dead? Although, I guess if this started a long, long time ago, like when there were still people saying the world was flat and stuff, I guess there could be thousands of little old ladies who could kick demon butt."

She had the Sun's sharpness, the vitality, the Powers had to admit that.

Merrick, not privy to such things, simply felt himself swept up in the tidal wave of her speech. "Every Slayer is Chosen based on something we Watchers do not claim to understand. It is what happens once you are called that matters to us, that's where we come in. To assist you, train you, so that you can be the most successful Slayer you can be, to provide you with our knowledge for your sacred duty."

"My what now?"

"To slay the vampires. Protect humankind."

"I couldn't keep a hamster alive! I don't even want a pet fish anymore!" Buffy vehemently denied. _No. I will not be forced into some "duty". I don't want a mission that chooses me, I want to choose what I do! Especially if- especially _when,_ he gets to the really bad part of what he's going to say. Just keep talking so he can't._

"How am I supposed to 'slay' anything? I'm a high school student! I'm already starting to slip in math! I can't go in late to homeroom with a note that says 'Please excuse Buffy for being late to school, she was up until midnight killing Dracula'!" The middle-aged man tried to speak, but she refused to allow it, voice sounding very shrill, yet very powerful. "Who would write the note anyway? My parents already think I'm insane! They put me in a mental hospital for three days! They're not going to believe me, or understand. And don't think you can convince them, either. They take one look at you and you say that you want me to hang out with you late at night to kill things, and you're going to be in the backseat of a police car. Or in the loony bin too. No offense."

"Ms. Summers-"

"Choose. Someone. Else." She bit off the words. "I get that there is only one in the world, and that's fine. I don't want to be that special. I pass my chosen-ness to the next poor sucker, hopefully someone who took karate instead of ice skating and who already has a driver's license and works nights."

"The only way a Slayer is called is when the previous Slayer dies." Merrick took his opening and said the part of his spiel that every Watcher hates to say. The one that is nevertheless, most true, and most closely tied to the calling of a Slayer and therefore the necessary first meeting, first explanations.

"Died, huh? Of old age?" She challenged him, fire in her eye.

"You are stronger than the vampires and demons. You are not immortal. Not invincible. Slayers are human, and they die. Not, unfortunately, of old age."

"On the job hazards?" Her tone was caustic, the youthful smile gone, replaced with a look of knowledge and bitterness that was of one far beyond her years.

"Yes." He replied, not gently, factually.

"So… what happens if I don't fight anything? I just keep being 'Chosen' but not doing anything about it?"

"You must! There are threats here, and you've already begun to see them!"

"There were threats without me being able to see them, right? Just do whatever you did before!"

"People died before. That is why there is always a Slayer."

The sense memory of her soul stirred._ They depended on me. I hated being bound, but I gave them light and life. Some worshipped me, calling me by different names. _

_ I received nothing for it. Torn away from love, cycle after cycle, then cast out__…_

Buffy blinked suddenly. "I spaced. Sorry." She mumbled. Odd sensations were nothing new these days, she often had little bursts of awareness that made no sense, that were only half-formed thoughts, sometimes without words. And dreams. She hated sleeping now because you couldn't distract yourself in dreams.

"One of the reasons that you are Chosen is because you value innocent lives. Even if you receive nothing from it, and even if it puts you in undesirable situations." Merrick said in a monotone voice.

"I'm not a monster, of course I value innocent lives." Buffy snapped. "Do you guys, do these Power people, value mine?"

"We do." He held out the wooden weapon to her once more. "If we didn't, I wouldn't be here. Having a lifelong duty to serve the Chosen ones. To offer you the best chances for long lives." He stated this with as much emotion as if ordering soup or picking out a tie. No smile, no depth in his eyes.

"How many of us have you 'served'?"

Merrick didn't smile, though he wanted to. She'd said "us". Putting herself into the group, knowingly or not. The smile could not come out, however. "Three. You are the third."

"The other two girls?"

"Died. Yes."

"How long were you with them?"

"I've been a Watcher for twenty years."

"How long were you with the first girl?" She pressed. "The second one?"

"You can read any Slayer history you want, there are books, kept by Watchers. The Council has them and I can get them for you so you have all your questions answered."

"Right now I only want those two questions answered. First girl, second girl, how long?"

Delaying the inevitable meant more time on this matter and less time on her training. "Sixteen months and eleven months. And, in case your next question was to ask if those Slayers were right before you- no. One was six years ago, one was twelve. They don't send Watchers out in succession, typically. We have other duties when we're not with a Slayer."

That wasn't her next question at all. There were no more questions, only death sentences. Sixteen months. Eleven months. So call it about thirteen and a half months to live, if this Watcher guy had anything to do with the law of averages.

"You sound like you've had a lot of experience. Knowledge. Books, histories, pointy sticks, training. You can do the job yourself. I'm out of here." She fled, turning back once to warn him in a shaking voice, "I mean it. I'm gone. You stay away from me."

* * *

He did. But they, the vampires, didn't honor any such requests. She saw more of them, closer to home, closer to school. Normalcy eroded. How could it not, with her constant jumping, wariness, and this new freaky weird strength? And clumsiness! Like her body was more graceful than her brain now, and so, bad combo that it was, she started to act like a total klutz.

And her parents started to fight. A lot.

About her. She could hear them now. So clearly, like having the super vision wasn't enough, she had to be able to hear things she should never have heard. And sense. Tinglies, she called it in her mind. A weird feeling when you know something is off? She started to get it from both parents, her father being the worst.

She cried. All the time.

* * *

It really didn't shock her when she snuck out after dark, and walked. Knowing the bad things were out, but feeling like she was better off than the rest of the world who couldn't see what was in the shadows. At least she'd have time to run.

Ran right into him. The man in the blue coat and salt and pepper mustache. She was about to gasp angrily at him for not staying away, until she realized she'd been the one running away. Or to.

"Say I - say I want to know more?" Buffy whispered.

"Then I can teach you." Merrick answered simply.

* * *

He had told her it would feel familiar, instinctual. "This is in you now. In your soul and blood."

"Yeah, I don't think so. Don't remember any 'sacred duty' in my IV bag." Buffy replied, her voice high and tense.

"Maybe if you didn't try to joke?" Merrick allowed himself a sigh as he watched her taking on this first vampire. The girl had arrived in a matching denim on denim ensemble and was worried about getting mud on her cute new sneakers. She consented to braid her hair to keep it out of the way, for better visibility. She had such little hands, and she dropped the stake he'd given her.

"Why not?" The tension was replaced with something else as the walking nightmare lunged at her. Anger. Fear. _You took my nights. You ruined my life. Sacred duty, my ass, maybe if I just kill all of you I can go back to getting enough sleep, not sneaking out, and nights will be for malls, not graveyards._ "Why should he-" a lunge, a stumble, "be the only one with a big, toothy grin?" A thrust.

The vampire froze. Merrick froze. The Slayer waited. The demon under her growled.

"Not the heart." Merrick shouted.

"Oh, sorry!" Buffy wincingly yanked the thing from her opponents chest, and plunged again, a little more up and to the left. "Ack!" A shower of dust exploded in her face. "Why didn't you tell my to keep my mouth closed!?" She demanded, gagging, coughing, rolling on to her back out of the cloud of ash, cute outfit and grass stains temporarily forgotten.

"I did say not to joke, which would have meant your mouth had a better chance of being closed." He helped her up and gave her flicker of a pleased smile. "Your first kill."

"It's not an instinct thing."_ Yet._ She had to admit it felt suddenly right. In the moment, there had been this tiny knowledge flare up in her brain, way back in the prelimbic part, that she_ could _do this. _Well, duh, of course it felt right, that was a horrible vampire. It's a killer. I stopped a killer. _

_ Whoa._

"I have to get back home." Buffy said suddenly, all traces of a smile fleeing.

"Tomorrow night."

"Okay. If I don't get caught."

"You'll learn the art of stealth."

"Oh. Goody. Is that before or after the art of living on four hours of sleep?"

In spite of himself, he laughed. "I don't know, everyone is different." _She certainly is._

* * *

A few months of practice turned her into many things. A branded troublemaker. A failing student. A disappointment as a child. Freak. Loner. Thinner, sadder, angrier.

Way better at killing them. She still joked. The _only_ time she joked anymore. Nothing was funny though. No laughing matters, anywhere in her life.

* * *

"My parents are talking all girls school." Buffy learned to carve her own stakes.

"That's fine." Slayers have worked in far more challenging positions.

"For_ you_! _I_ have to go there. No guys is a bad thing."

He almost told her then, that Slayers don't seem to make lasting relationships, especially romantic ones. But something again reminded him that this girl was different. Still bright. Still hopeful, playful, in spite of everything. "There will be a guy someplace."

"Yes. In Normal Town, where I have been banished from." She deadpanned.

"You may be glad of a change in your schooling."

"Are you kidding me? No one wants to change high schools! It's_ high school_!"

"There's rumbling in the demon network that a pack of vampires plans to-"

"There's a demon network? Like, phones?"

He pressed on. "They plan to infiltrate a local high school dance. I haven't been able to get anything about the name of the high school or the date of the dance."

Buffy stared at him as if he were terminally stupid. "You wanted to ask demons about that?"

"Well, asking is not typically how-"

"Why didn't you ask me? Former Fiesta Queen? Freshman Winter Formal Snowflake Princess?"

It was his turn to stare.

"I know all about the high school dances. For all the local high schools, private, public, parochial. It's a thing. There are dresses. You have to know who's going with who, who really dates a boy from another school, and who's just making stuff up, if you can have outside students… It's a thing." She trailed off with a shrug, suddenly feeling like crying, unable to keep the wistfulness from her voice. Two months ago, those things might have mattered.

"Tell me who is having a dance in the next ten days."

"We are. Hemery. Freshman-Sophomore mixer. Semi-formal."

"You're the target." When she didn't speak, he pressed on, trying to shake her from her sudden retreat into herself, into the world she lost and missed. "A gang of them will pose as guests and at some point in the evening, start abducting teens to feed on. The crowded dance floor, the low lights- a perfect cover."

"Low lights? Not at Hemery. Well, maybe at the last slow song."

"Still, crowds, confusion. Buffy, they are coming, and they are going to try to take your classmates."

Anger. Resentment. Disbelief. Protect. All the feelings that smash together and don't have a name when they're combined overwhelmed her in one rush. "How do I take on a whole gang?" It wasn't a fearful voice, questioning her fate. It was a demanding voice, demanding tactics.

"Start with the lowest, work your way to the leader."

"Right, who's the big shot?"

"A vampire named Lothos." Merrick's face changed. Even for the typically serious Watcher, this was a whole new level of gravitas.

"Whoa. Bad guy?" Buffy asked.

"He's what's called a master vampire. Lived for centuries, makes his own legions. Killed a Slayer before."

And without asking, she knew he had killed one of Merrick's. "Very bad guy." Buffy murmured.

"You might not be able to get to him. That's fine. Save the lives you can save and kill all the vampires you can. Lothos has escaped death for about eight hundred years and I don't expect-"

"EIGHT hundred?" Buffy dropped her whittling knife. "Holy crap!"

"Yes. He's not a match for a newly called Slayer." A hesitation. "I'm going to help you with this dance. Lothos might not even be there himself, he may be waiting nearby to take the victims to a new location. It depends on if he is simply looking to feed and terrorize, or if he has something more sinister in mind."

"More sinister, huh? Than killing teenagers and drinking their blood when they're supposed to be having fun, someplace safe an boring, like school?"

"Like you said, 'bad guy'." Merrick handed her knife back to her and resumed carving with his own.

* * *

_Abandoned_

"You want to tell me something?"

Buffy almost screamed as she climbed into her bedroom window. Sitting there, in the dark, was her mother. "Mom! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"And what do you think I've been having?" Joyce's eyes were red-rimmed, her voice shook. "Where were you?"

"I- I went out for a walk, and I didn't want you to wake up so I didn't use the front door…" She lied lamely.

"You're going to have to get a lot better with your stories, young lady." Joyce laughed with an edge of hysteria in her exasperation.

_I know._ "It's true. I did walk. I just- walked!"

"Were you with a boy?"

"No! Mom, I swear, no boys. This isn't about boys." Buffy laughed bitterly.

"What is it about? Drugs? A gang?"

_You could say that. The gang part._ "I just needed to get out of this room. And you and Dad have been fighting so much, I feel like I can't bother you with anything little, like the fact that it- it helps me to just take a walk at night sometimes."

"You know why you get the feeling you can't bother us? Because we're dealing with something huge. Our daughter making the worst possible decisions." Joyce glared. Then softened. "But you're our daughter. You can tell us anything. We'd go for walks with you."

_Bad, bad, bad idea. Mom exposed to vampires, possible death of parent._ "I like being alone. It's not like that's something weird when you're a teenager, Mom."

Her mother's lips thinned. "I'm glad you like being alone. You're grounded. School, then home, for the rest of the month."

"Mom! I went for a walk! I didn't steal a car!"

"No, but that'll be next." Joyce snapped.

That stung. _I'm being good! I'm saving lives, I'm going the opposite direction of the bad kid stereotype! _

_ I hate that I can__'t tell her anything. Tell anyone anything._ "Fine. I'm sorry, I won't do it again. If I thought it would be such a big deal, I would have woken you up." Buffy murmured, lying, but more convincingly.

Joyce wanted to believe her. "Thank you for your apology. Now get some sleep, you're not going to be late tomorrow. If you're not dressed and ready for the bus, I'll drive you to school in your pajamas."

_And the slow social suicide continues._ "I'll be ready. Promise." Buffy swore.

"Good."

"Mom, about the grounding? Is there a way I can still go to the dance this weekend? I can swap out a day or something?"

A dance. Her daughter had been the beautiful belle of two school balls, one of the "pretty girls", the "popular girls". A cheerleader with As, Bs, and loads of friends.

It was so tempting to give in, to hope that letting her attend the dance would jumpstart the old Buffy, return her little princess to her.

"That's letting you choose when and how you can be punished for your actions. That's not really a consequence." Joyce held firm, like all the parenting books told her to.

"Mom, please, I - I haven't been to any of the dances this season and I-"

"You can talk to your father about it when he gets home, but my mind is made up."

"Wait. Dad's not here?" Buffy felt a huge stab of worry, and the sick tingling feeling in her spine reemerged with a vengeance.

"He's … I don't know. He was working late. International deal, so a different time zone for a conference call. He might have fallen asleep at his office." She had called his office. No answer. No need to tell her little girl that.

"Is he out looking for me?" Buffy asked, mouth suddenly filled with ashes, picturing her father at risk, in the streets she now knew were so much more dangerous, filled with so much more than muggers and car thieves.

"No." Joyce's voice came out harsher than she meant it to. She'd been here, alone, agonizing, torn between waiting for her daughter to return or go search for her, all the while unable to get hold of her husband. Knowing he probably wasn't working late at all. He was avoiding talking about their problems, about Buffy.

"Is he okay? What if he got in a car accident, what if he- he had a heart attack?" Buffy held tightly to her bag. Stakes inside. Cross. Holy water. Weapons were becoming comforting.

"Don't overreact." Joyce said sharply. She wanted to allay her child's worries, and yet, her fears were in a much different direction, and she couldn't share them. She rubbed her arms. "He's fine. I'll call him again in a few minutes and make sure he's okay." Then she would lie to Buffy if he didn't answer.

The door downstairs clicked softly. "Dad!" Buffy let out a cry of relief.

Joyce started. She hadn't even heard a sound, and all at once her daughter was streaking past her.

"Daddy! Are you okay?" Buffy was pounding down the stairs, straight into the arms of a very confused looking Hank Summers.

"Buffy! Why aren't you in bed?" Hank hugged her quickly, then pushed her back to stare accusingly.

"I was worried about you and-"

"She snuck out." Joyce's voice was gimlet sharp from the top of the stairs. "I tried calling your office ten times while I sat here, waiting alone, not knowing where the hell our only child was."

"Go to your room." Hank thundered at Buffy, anger rolling off of him in waves.

Buffy stood between her parents, head darting from one to the other.

"Ten times, Hank!"

"I was on a call!"

"For three hours?"

"Yes! You know conference calls can be like that."

"You never once thought that if your wife called ten times in three hours, in the middle of the night, that you should ask to call them back and go see if something was wrong?"

"I was in the conference room, I didn't hear my desk extension."

"She could have been killed! I could have been calling from the hospital!"

"Dad, Mom, I'm sorry." Buffy interjected desperately.

"Go to your room!" Hank pointed this time, stepping closer.

"Don't act like that!" Joyce came barreling down the stairs. "You can't teach a child through intimidation!"

"Nagging isn't working, either!"

"I'm not nagging, I'm trying to be involved! Consistent!"

The shouting grew. Buffy fled.

* * *

The super hearing sucked right now. Sobbing wouldn't drown it out. They weren't even yelling now, and she could still hear them in their room.

Hear the words, "What kind of man doesn't call back if his wife calls that many times after eleven at night?"

"What kind of crazy calls ten times when her husband already told her he'd be working late?"

"Your job does not trump our daughter!"

"Our daughter doesn't trump everything else in life! Joyce, you're making Buffy's behavior an obsession!"

"She needs help, Hank. If you don't want to help her, maybe you're part of the problem!"

"So, if I'm not going crazy, like both of you, I'm not supposed to be in this family?"

"I never said-"

"You didn't need to say! I'm happy to go! I'll just stay in a hotel, then!"

"We are not separating without trying marriage counseling."

"Fine. Then we're getting a _divorce_ without trying marriage counseling!"

Buffy's sobs stopped. She couldn't breathe. _Divorce. Leaving. Not part of the family?_

Her mother's sobs replaced her own.

* * *

"I'm not mad at you, Pumpkin. I just can't seem to make your mother see sense on a few things. We've had problems before. It's just time."

His words were so hollow. Full of lies. She didn't need the practically vibrating spine to tell her she was getting a load of bull. _He's just trying to avoid saying it's me._

* * *

"I'm ready to take out something." Buffy snuck out and didn't care. Her parents were too busy screaming to notice anyway. "Take me to Lothos, take me to the gang or his hideout, or whatever. Just- let me go."

"Why are you so quick to throw your life away?"

"It was already garbage. I'm just the last one to see it." She shrugged moodily. He was silent, sad eyed, a look she had not seen in him before. "But at least I'm getting good at one thing, right?"

"Very good. Very- different, but very, very good." Merrick was forced to admit.

"You're the only one who tells me I'm good at something anymore." Buffy hesitantly grinned at him, and he grinned back with the same reserve.

"The dance is tomorrow. If you want to hunt, there's plenty to hunt, but Lothos and his gang are too smart, they won't be out tonight, they'll be finalizing plans for tomorrow. Their 'hideout' isn't public knowledge, so you're not going to infiltrate. You should still patrol. The more practice you have…" He couldn't lie and say the better her chances were, because that really wasn't how slaying worked. Even the greatest and most experienced, they died.

"The better I am." She finished for him, squaring her shoulders. "Let's kick some undead butt."

She didn't go home that night, fighting whatever was around and evil, until the sun locked them away from her. It felt good. It felt_ right._ There was a target for all the anger, and there wasn't anyone abandoning her out here, in the dark. Not this time. Merrick went home to wherever he lived when daylight came, and she went to school. She slept through her classes, and didn't bother to worry about dresses or permission for the dance. She was already so grounded, and on the verge of academic failure. She was showing up, without permission, dateless, and dressed to kill.

_That used to mean everything was new, designer, and matched. _

_ Now it means my bag can carry five or more stakes and my pants have enough room for one more tucked in the waist. And pockets. Lots of pockets._

* * *

She shouldn't have been cocky. He shouldn't have told her to avoid Lothos.

Because Lothos didn't avoid her, and his gang wasn't concerned about using the crowd as cover. They didn't need a cover in this scenario. They stormed the place, ten of the lesser vampires, and one big, huge, long haired ugly, not even bothering to hide their demon faces.

"Slayer. A new one. I've been waiting for another chance. Once you taste a Slayer, you can never get enough."

_ This guy is going to kill me. I__'m going to be the shortest living Slayer on record. _His words, so certain, full of experience, seemed to temporarily freeze her.

"Lothos." Merrick's voice was quiet and steady behind the demon. The beast turned. It was enough for Buffy to make her first move, and Merrick to make his last.

* * *

_But… _I _die. The Watcher lives. There's rules. He said… he didn't say a lot. _ Buffy fought in a confused haze. She ignored the minions running around, the screaming teens. Lothos had to die, because he just killed her Watcher. Took the stake that the man had been aiming at him, caught it it with a roar of pain in his forearm as he blocked the killing blow, and then- blunt end first. Right back through the Watcher's chest. He went down with a strangled gagging sound that would haunt her, that would be the only thing she could hear when Lothos spoke to her. That was good in a way, because then she didn't hear his stupid threats, mocking, taunting whatever it was master vampires say to their more challenging adversaries.

She just knew that she was going to win.

_I am eternal champion. Warrior of light. I never burn out- I only burn._

Buffy didn't think those words consciously. Something inside her whispered, and she suddenly knew what to do.

Lothos backed up, the girl had dropped her stake. A moment to laugh, a split second to lunge, to grab for her throat, and then-

"Like my accessories?" Buffy whispered, face inches from his own. "Cross. Madonna madness was one of my early fashion stages, what can I say?"

Lothos pulled back his hand with a howl, the hand that was now smoking.

"You need a little water on that." Buffy shattered the first of two vials of holy water she had carried in her pockets. He went up like a gory firework, human shaped and blazing, running, and his servants running to him. "Stupid vampires." Buffy muttered, and she threw the other bottle. More caught flame. The gym too, running infernos spreading the flames. People ran. All the kids that hadn't fled immediately did so now. She was left alone in the fire, looking through the smoke of dying demons for the only other human in the room.

Human body, anyway.

He wasn't still alive. She'd known he couldn't be. She toyed with the idea of carrying him out, but then there'd be a dead man with a secret identity left on the school property, with a really big hole in his chest.

Her face crumbled as she took two seconds to squeeze the already cooling hand and shut the sightless eyes. "Thank you."

She got up from her kneeling position and ran.

_Flames don't really scare me. It's better than the dark._

One last look at the ashes, the burning tables and stage, and the prone form in navy.

One last look.

_It should have been me. It wasn't me. I don't really protect so much, do I?_

* * *

_Moving_

Joyce Summers took out all her grief and anger in a fury of planning.

"We are getting you out of this place. Away from that gang, who started the fire."

"Okay." It wasn't like she had friends to stay for. Or a house, her childhood home. It would be sold and assets divided in the divorce proceedings. She wasn't concerned about school, even though no high schooler in the world wants to switch schools period, let alone mid-semester. Didn't really matter when you got expelled, fingered as the torch in a weird, masked gang who crashed the Hemery High dance.

"A small town. A peaceful town. One that doesn't have an art gallery, and one with affordable real estate."

"In this state?" Buffy managed to mumble.

"It takes some digging, but it's going to be worth it. A fresh start. For both of us." Joyce declared firmly, not letting her daughter see her tears falling on her open address book. "I'm going to make some calls. I have some friends in the real estate business, and there are gallery owners' associations."

"Okay, Mom." She repeated once more. "Is Dad coming over tonight?"

"No." Joyce answered shortly. "He knows this is what I have to do for you. If he chooses not to be a part of it, that's his choice."

She was so wrapped up in her own pain, that she never thought about how it sounded to her child.

_My dad doesn't want anything to do with me. Or my mother. We're not a family. We're broken. I'm broken. I'm a broken, friendless, freak._

_ I can__'t do this again. Anymore. Ever._ "I'll pack."

"That's my brave girl."

"I want out of here too, Mom." Buffy whispered.

* * *

When she slept, amidst boxes and walls that were starting to look bare, she had a peculiar dream, so vivid, that she would not recall upon waking.

Men. Faceless men. They tore him from her side and she only got to touch him briefly as it was. But oh, so much in one touch. Love, eternal, endless, and the true kind. When you live and die for the other, simply a part of being.

_That's right. Half of my being. Is gone. The rest is all torn apart._

_ You know better than to love again. Boys that pretended interest lost it in a hurry as you changed. _She saw lockers slamming shut as she walked an endless hall.

_Your father, life-giver, abandons you, a bond that is supposed to be unbreakable._ The locker door on the end turned to a front door, the door of her house, then a car door, slamming shut, driving away.

The sound of the motor turned to the smell of gasoline, to flames, to a burning body that she barely knew.

_The teacher. The Watcher. Died because you failed to act quickly enough._

_ Don__'t let anyone in. Trust no one. Burn every bridge and be again anonymous in your brightness. Don't shine, blend in. No one ever truly looks at the Sun without blindness… Use it. Don't see, don't be seen_.

More doors slamming, all around her, pushing her into a shaft of light, that swallowed her whole and left blackness in its wake.

* * *

She woke up sweating and gasping, with only one clear thought from the terrible, yet instantly forgotten dream. _Normal again, please God. Just let me be normal again. _She vowed she wouldn't let anyone close enough to see her secret and she would give up practicing this "sacred duty."

* * *

"Her own father leaves her. Her guardian dies at her side. She closes herself off. Wonderful." Praes groaned. "If these most trusted mortal men fail, how is a _vampire _supposed to win her trust and her heart?"

No answer.

"Cora? Corrrraaa!"

Still nothing.

"It takes awhile." Cora spoke eventually.

He had been unaware of her presence. "Oh. I called for you, but-"

"Crono doesn't like these moments of watchfulness we share." Cora put it simply. "But you were musing? Did you really want an answer to your question, or simply to speak upon the matter?"

"I know she does choose to let him in. I only wonder how this can happen, when she trusts no one. I thought the full merging of her self and spirit into flesh would perhaps break the patterns I saw in the others."

"Have hope that it will. You act like each event defines them."

"These are most assuredly defining events!"

"But it takes more than a handful to make a whole. Hope and watch. She is used to dying in the cold, and without Moon to take her down that path, she takes herself to it, locking up her heart, freezing the outside world away. For a cycle. She will move in cycles of warmth and trust, bitterness and distance."

"And Moon will find her at the right moment, and when she is receptive she'll- no?" Cora was shaking her head. "Then how?"

"Ah, that's going to be the interesting bit to see, Prae. When Moon first truly sees her, she'll be receptive- to someone else bearing his essence."

"What?"

"The Slayer line holds the Sun's essence. The Master's line holds the Moon's. William, now called Spike, is the one with the most pieces, but there were others before him, you recall. Sire after sire."

He merely stared.

"The moon has phases. She'll experience a few before it's full. Let's just leave it at that."

_To be continued…._


	7. Chapter 7

**Timeless**

**by Sweetprincipale**

_ Completely AU. Begins before the show (waay before) and will run through the end of season seven. _

_ Two souls were made for each other. They were meant to be together, from the beginning of time, to the end of the world. If they can unravel a thread stretching across time and space, they will find each other again. _

_Author's Note: Some of Season One's dialogue is used in this chapter. Sorry for the long delay, but hope it will seem worth the wait. References from previous chapters are used, so maybe a re-read, or at least a re-skim is in order. _

_Author's Second Note: It's a short chapter. Once again, I've started too many projects, so I'm doing shorter chapters for all pieces to kind of get "caught up" and to make sure everyone knows I'm still writing, not abandoning any pieces!_

_Dedicated to the exceedingly patient Ginar369, A GriffinWriter, Writerdragonfly, stuff'n'nonsense, ValidescopeWest, Lou, __sbyamibakura__, Illusera, madcloisfan, BuffyAddict, Satansagels9, coconutjelly596, KyanaM, Kittyfajitias, and rpfan1976. _

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine._

**Part**** VII**

_Sun_

_New Start_

It was a dark dawning, all the warmth and the fire gone out of her. She vowed she wouldn't let anyone else near her, part of this vow intended to keep people safe, part of it to keep herself safe.

Guard the heart, a little voice urged, while another scoffed that she was used to the pain, that her love had only ever come with a burning or freezing that lead to death.

Strange words for a teenage girl to hear, but the ancient warrior in her knew the truth and knew the tiredness.

There was no light left in her, just fake and borrowed brightness.

* * *

"She can't stay like that for long." Cora felt compelled to offer a kind word as Praes watched and fretted over the girl's transition to a new town, new school, new phase of life. Like all mortals, going through changes. "One would think you've never seen life before."

"I've never felt _responsible_ for one." The youth muttered, and hugged the soul he carried a little tighter.

"Flowers lift their heads to the sun, even when the sky is cloudy and the storm is raging." Cora pointed out complacently.

"That's more Vida or Gae's line." Praes muttered, absorbed as he watched a hollow eyed girl force a fake smile to her lips and practice looking "happy and normal" in the mirror, surrounded by unopened boxes in her new home. "Life cycle and nature and things of that nature…"

"She is the Sun. Even obscured. She'll draw life to her."

* * *

She was unwittingly drawn into friendships, her facade of indifference cracked and her natural warmth pouring out. Her beauty and her concern for innocents made her reject showy, hollow people with harder hearts and look for others like herself people with a light locked inside. She wasn't alone, and she had let someone in, if only in the most general way.

The Watcher was another story.

* * *

Buffy knew it was Merrick's "replacement" a few seconds before he slammed the _Vampyre_ book down in front of her. She didn't get the tingle related to sensing evil, more like a sudden pang of something akin to homesickness. Finding yourself in a place, or in this case, with a person, and you knew you'd been missing even if you tried to leave them behind.

It hurt too much. She played dumb. She walked away. She yelled at him when he tried to come after her.

And then some poor guy ended up dead, on campus, bitten.

"I'm having a really bad first day…" Buffy told herself. She also told herself that she'd better get used to the pain, and get back to dealing with it- but she wasn't going to let anyone get back inside the hollowed out places in her heart.

And then the tweedy, pushy, egg-heady guy with the book and the annoying accent- followed her to a club. A_ club_. Where he looked miserable and uncomfortable, and he wanted to watch over her, go with her when she ended up needing to make an emergency slay. She told him she could handle it herself.

_I am_ not _going to like him. I'm not going to- like how he jumped in. How he was so nervous about everything, and how he stutters, and how he gets involved instead of just 'Watching" even though he totally thinks he's just "Watching."_ She talked herself in circles in her head.

_I'm not going to _like _him. I'm not going to think about how he came to check in on me. I'm not. I'm not going to think about how this stranger who knows me because of spooky cosmic mojo cares about what happens to me, a stranger to him… and I'm not going to compare him to the only other old guys in my life. Merrick is dead. _

_ Dad didn__'t call to see how the move went. Or how the first day at a new school was. Or remember to pick her up on "his" weekends._

She'd see this new guy, Giles, tomorrow, and probably every day at school, and every night on patrol if he kept being pushy. Maybe she'd have to let him in, a little. And the few people she'd met at school, Willow, Xander, Jesse, maybe even Cordelia. But no one else.

* * *

_Sun_

_Essence_

_Vengeance_

She was new at this, relatively. Giles and Merrick both thought she was the best they'd ever seen or heard of. They had imagined it was talent, her naturally quick wits or resourceful nature. They didn't recognize vengeance-or perhaps in the case, "avengeance", avenging someone she loved, that she didn't even truly remember.

When she fought, she was too busy surviving to hear the song of her subconscious, the buried memories of what she was and still is.

_All you night creatures- perverting his domain. Stealing his kingdom, his beauty, stealing _him._ You took him from me. You tore off his chains but cast him out of the skies, and I had no choice but to follow. I still can't find him. All I ever catch are glimpses. _

_Like the one following me._

That final thought was loud enough to work its way to the surface of her host and true home.

Buffy whirled.

* * *

_Moon_

_Essence_

He was going to offer to help. Only to help. If she needed it, which at the moment, she did not. Then he should not follow her.

Technically, he shouldn't do any of this. The demon inside him rebelled at the thought, but the soul inside him yearned for this, and in some way, he almost felt like the demon was waiting, waiting to see him meet the slayer. His snotty, stupid "grandson" always went after them, but he was smarter. Until now, he preferred not to pursue this natural enemy. _Former_ natural enemy. She should have no true quarrel with him now.

He couldn't leave her alone. Kept looking at her. Thought this mighty slayer would be bigger or taller with more muscles._ She's nothing special._

_ She__'s light. She's heat._

Something in him remembers. Lets himself be seen.

* * *

Her feet swing and connect with him, foot ends up on his throat, eyes blazing down, and he lets himself remain still, drinking her in before he can speak. "Ah, heh. Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Yeah, there's a problem. Why are you following me?"

"I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, I don't bite." She let him up, but didn't relax her stance_. Always so fiery_, a little voice reminds him. "Truth is, I thought you'd be taller, or bigger muscles and all that. You're pretty spry, though." He massaged his neck.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing you do."

Her are eyes momentarily lose their hardness. There is iron in her, but there is warmth, so much passion and heat- he can feel a lingering burn, and part of him remembers it was the sweetest, most worthwhile pain he'd ever encountered. He wants it back.

"Okay. What do I want?" She challenges.

"To kill them. To kill them all." They're evil and they ruin lives, and right at that moment his heart reminds him that with first creation of the night creatures, they ruined his life, her life, together. He doesn't like this reminder. Maybe that's the true reason why he's always avoided the cause of it.

* * *

_Sun _

_Essence_

Yes, she wants to avenge him. But what the stranger says, isn't what she wants. She wants him, all of him, reunited with all of her, and all she ever senses are fragments. Right now, that sense memory is incredibly strong. It's almost like he's near her, but something isn't quite right. She has enough pain without dealing with substitutes. Even strangely familiar ones.

"Sorry, that's incorrect. But you do get this lovely watch and a year's supply of Turtle Wax. What I _want_ is to be left alone!" She turned away sharply.

"Do you really think that's an option anymore? You're standing at the Mouth of Hell. And it's about to open."

Buffy turns back. Only some of his words register. _Walking away- not an option. _She barely flinches when he tosses her a box.

"Don't turn your back on this. You've gotta be ready."

_No. It already hurt. I'm not ready for more pain. Not ready to let you in._ "What for?"

"For the Harvest."

"Who are you?"_ Because you're almost him- but somehow you're not,_ her essence warned.

"Let's just say... I'm a friend." He began to leave.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend."

"I didn't say I was yours."

That's right, her core told her. _He's not yours. Don't be fooled._

* * *

"You're kidding me. Moon's actual surviving essence, fragmented as that is, the Master's line. Darla, Angel, the Master himself, and any of his children that he or his direct descendants made -they're_ all _in her town. Except for Moon himself! And his sire?" Praes collapsed bak onto the pillow surface of ethereal mists, eyes taking turns being wide and horrified, or closed in frustration. "That's not fair!"

"Life is not fair!" Crono's voice suddenly boomed in his ear and made him yelp. "I don't play at all, Praespero. This wasn't a game. You've disturbed the natural order."

Gulping, he defended himself from the intruding being, "They were not only an 'order' they were in love. You could have given them their freedom, but you didn't."

"Nor did you. Just let them loose to find different sets of chains."

_He doesn't like me watching them, he doesn't like me caring, but I do watch over, and I do care. Even if he keeps trying to scare me off, he can't. And he knows it, the lord of all creations, he knows all destinies. He doesn't like that I may actually have had a role in changing some_. "Fine. But those chains fall off. They are free, free to unbind themselves, you'll see. No, you already have seen, you _know._ You just- you just don't like to admit that it will b-be okay, as if by punishing me for what I did, it will somehow change things." The boy refused to be cowed, though his voice shook. His father-figure did not like that.

"Fine. Eventually, they are 'free'. Wait until you see what you've condemned them to, and it's _worse _when their forms are reunited with souls and essences. The pain of centuries, Praes? They'd welcome it compared to these next few mortal years."

"That may be true." Praes finally whispered. But he recalled Cora's words. "But they survive all the pain, Crono whether they take it all over the course of eternity, or a day, or a handful of mortal years." He smiled and for the first time watched his father seem uncertain. "They do that which seems impossible. That's what makes their love story one that will last forever." He bowed as he backed away, an air of respect marred by a small, cheerful smirk. "I have some lives to watch over. Some hope to instill. If you'll excuse me, _Father_, I will leave you to your mayflies and your 'purpose'."

* * *

_To be continued…_


End file.
